


Cursed Blessings

by jsymo



Series: Cursed Blessings [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cursed Dean, Daddy!Cas, Daddy!Sam, Dean Hates Witches, Diapers, Grumpy Dean, Infantilism, M/M, Schmoop, Sex scenes Maybe, Sorry Not Sorry, Sweet, Unconditional Love, What Can I Say? I like Infantilism (And Baby Dean), baby!dean - Freeform, bottles, general adorableness, non-con infantilism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:13:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 156,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsymo/pseuds/jsymo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up with the knowledge that he's been cursed by the witch he had been hunting, and while he easily accepts the fact that he's in the hospital he isn't so quick on the uptake for his physical changes. Suddenly he's being adopted by two men who keep calling themselves "Papa" and "Daddy" and with bottles, baby carriers and diapers comes the realization that he's been turned into an infant.</p><p>The curse will last one year. And if after one year Dean finds that he truly hates his situation, then he’ll transform back into an adult. No strings attached. If he learns to like it, well, let’s just say Sam and Cas won’t have to worry about adoption any time soon. Problem is, Dean won’t be able to convince the curse away, because it’s going to be his heart that makes the final decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Congratulations, It's a Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to take the blame for the creation of this story. It's not my fault that infantilism is a tag and that I kind of fell in love with the stories. This fic was totally unplanned, but I couldn't help writing it, and if I'm gonna write it I might as well post it eh? Well, I promise to update when I can, and I hope that you can get some thrills out of my guilty pleasure here!

Dean felt tired. And achy. And hungry.

It was easy for him to say that the hunt didn’t go quite as planned. He could tell from just the starchy sheets that he was in a hospital. Hospitals were always identifiable by their blankets. It helped that Dean grew up the way he did, rushed to the ER or waking up in intensive care after hunts, either solo or with his dad. It made it easier for him to identify where he was just by the sheets.

The knowledge that he was somewhere safe was encouraging and so Dean allowed himself to drift into sleep once more.

***** 

Dean had been in the hospital for a few days. Had to have been judging by the number of times he had been fed.

Whatever the witch had hit him with had to have been quite the whammy. As he was dead tired and slept what had to be nearly sixteen hours of the day. That, and whatever he had been hit with left him physically useless. When he was awake and his eyes were open he couldn’t make heads or tails of the unit he was in or even what kinds of physical impairments he was working with. 

He kept trying to look down at his body but for whatever reason his neck wasn’t exactly cooperating with him. It made him suspect a neck injury, but the lack of neck support made him change his mind. His limbs were also having a difficult time of things. He often attempted to move around when awake, but most of the time he wasn’t able to wiggle out of the blankets that the staff had wrapped too tightly around him.

He also knew that it had been a few days because he had peed a handful of times since waking up that first time. Had he gone to the bathroom? No. But the staff had taken care of it – perhaps they had him on a bedpan of some kind – so it wasn’t something he needed to waste energy on.

It took actually quite a while for Dean to figure out that things weren’t as typical as he expected them to be.

It all started with the nurse. 

He had been awake for a few hours, staring blearily up at the ceiling as he didn’t have the energy to call out for a nurse, or press a call button – not that he could get his hands to cooperate long enough to grab one anyway, and a nurse came by his bed.

Dean turned his head to talk to her and attempt to ask her what was wrong with him and her hands came into the bed and around him. At first he was wondering if she was perhaps checking some dressing on his body or something, until one hand scooped under his butt and the other cupped his back and Dean was _lifted_ by the young nurse’s hands alone.

His jaw dropped open at the fact as she settled him in one of her arms. 

“How we feeling today sweetie? Hungry hmm?” she asked as a soft thumb rubbed at Dean’s bottom lip. “We can get that in just a second sweetie, just got to bring you to meet a few special people first.”

Dean swallowed and watched helplessly as he was carried out of the room and into the hall. The only way that he knew he was moving was because of the soft swaying that he was subjected to in the nurse’s arms and the passing overhead fluorescent lights. 

He could feel himself gasping as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he internally panicked at the situation. Why was he so _small_??

They passed through a doorway and the nurse hefted his upper half a little higher so that he was facing outward into the room. They had entered a strange sitting room that didn’t look like it belonged in the hospital. There was a row of chairs along the far wall and an important looking desk closer to the door with another pair of chairs facing it. These last two chairs were occupied and the occupants were staring right at him. 

Both the occupants were male; late twenties, early thirties for the taller one. He also had long chocolate-colored hair that went below his ears and had wide expressive hazel eyes that seemed happy as a simple smile created dimples on his face.

The other male was definitely older. Mid-thirties – late if he took care of himself. He seemed much more subdued than his puppy-like companion, totally happy, but subdued. He was sporting cool black hair that was short, spiky and messy and had hard blue eyes that looked soft and inquisitive. 

“You guys ready to meet Dean?” he heard the nurse say excitedly above him.

“Yeah,” the longer-haired male said, all breathless and starry eyed as he got up from his chair and rushed over to Dean with itchy looking fingers. “Ca-can I hold him?”

“Of course!” the nurse chirped as she handed Dean over. 

And suddenly Dean went from the soft touches of the nurse into the arms of the great big giant that was going all baby eyed over him.

The long haired-male settled Dean in his arms and then held him so close to his face that Dean could have head-butted the guy in the nose had he been able to move his neck properly.

“Hey there Dean,” the guy _cooed_.

A large finger came up to sweep over Dean’s cheeks, and he couldn’t help but frown. 

He felt the man chuckle, “what’s with the pouty face little guy?” 

“Oh,” Dean heard the nurse say from behind him, “it’s been a little while since Dean’s last bottle. If I made him one would you want to --.”

“Yes!” the guy said before she could finish. “I would love that very much.”

And if Dean hadn’t been staring straight at the guy’s smile then he damn well would have heard it in the guy’s voice. 

Dean heard light tapping suggesting that the nurse had left.

The man turned with Dean in his arms and sat back in the chair he had vacated, and he lowered his arms enough that Dean was able to look at the older male when he craned his eyes up.

“Ohp, lemme adjust you so you can see Papa,” was said and Dean frowned at that.

_Papa?_

Dean was adjusted to the male’s other arm and now he had an unobstructed view of both faces.

Twin smiles were what greeted him, which clashed with the frown Dean knew he was sporting. 

“What the hell do you mean Papa?” Dean asked looking between the both males.

His question garnered no answer, but both men looked at one another with goofy smiles before refocusing on him.

“No, seriously. This isn’t funny. What do you mean by _Papa?_ ”

“You’re just chatty aren’t you De?” the man who was holding him said as his free arm came up to sweep across his bottom lip much like the nurse had done to him before. 

And what the _hell_ was it with these people and his lips?

Dean heard the distinct sound of footsteps and soon the nurse from earlier appeared back over the guy’s shoulder. 

“Here you go Sam,” she said handing something over to the guy who was holding him. 

Sam, he noted.

Sam murmured a thanks to the woman before taking Dean by surprise and slipping something rubbery between his lips without him realizing it.

Dean tried pulling away from it, but his head was already pressed against the guy – Sam’s – elbow and no matter how he moved his head the object just followed him. He went cross-eyed trying to look at the thing to figure out what it was. 

His question was answered for him however when Sam prompted him with a “C’mon little guy, don’t you wanna drink your bottle?”

A _bottle?_ That’s what they’ve been feeding him with? Dean thought it was some weird feeding tube!

Dean couldn’t help the whimper that left him. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t flat out confused and freaked out at what was going on. Last thing he knew he had been out solo fighting a witch and now he’s in a hospital being babied by the staff and being fed a bottle by some stranger.

He wasn’t feeling too well. 

“Ooo, c’mon little guy. It’s okay,” Sam gave a little jiggle to his arms and bounced Dean. Which helped him to focus on the here and now.

He was breathing a little heavy through his nose and did his best to focus on the hazel eyes that were staring straight at him. 

“Aren’t you hungry? Hmm?”

And damnit. Dean was. He could feel the familiar ache in his belly, and for whatever reason these people weren’t hearing what he was saying, so he knew that no matter how hard he tried they wouldn’t get the message that he refused to drink from a bottle. 

Swallowing his pride Dean closed his eyes and made the familiar sucking motions that he had thought had been him eating from a feeding tube for the past few days. 

The milk – and how Dean hadn’t realized before that it was milk was beyond him – was strangely satisfying to his belly as he sucked his meal down. 

He was aware that the people in the room were moving about; the nurse had left and someone else had entered, someone that both males shook hands with – Dean could tell because he had been shifted around and momentarily caught a flash of white hair on an older man who sat on the other side of the desk.

Unfortunately though he wasn’t able to hear much of what was being said. He couldn’t drink his bottle too fast or too much milk would be in his mouth for him to swallow and the sucking sounds he was making along with his snuffled breathing between swallows made it difficult to follow the conversation.

From the tone of the voices he could make out the three men were all very well acquainted with one another, and yet the atmosphere in the room felt very professional. Very final.

It was worrying Dean who continued to suck on the nipple of the bottle long after all of the milk was gone.

“You all done Dean?” he heard Sam say as the nipple was removed from his lips with a pop. 

That caused him to open his eyes – which he hadn’t realized had been closed – and look at the room for the first time in a few minutes. 

From where Dean was laid he could see the newest male occupant in the room sweeping up some documents into a navy folder and the man who had been sitting with Sam was putting on an outer coat.

Something was going on here. Something was changing, and it was freaking Dean out.

His stress sweating started back up again and a shudder went through his whole body – which made a look of concern flit over Sam’s face.

“You okay there De?” 

“He’s probably getting tired,” Dean heard realizing that at some point the nurse had returned. 

“The other nursery staff said that Dean has been awake for a few hours. I wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep on you guys on the way home.”

Home? What did she mean home?

Now Dean was shaking with unrestrained fear. 

Papa? Home? Surely these men hadn’t just _adopted_ Dean, had they?

“Why are you so shaky sweetheart?” Sam sounded concerned as he transferred Dean so he was sitting up against his shoulder, one hand cupping his bottom while the other rubbed circles into his back.

Dean pressed his face against the warm shoulder he was facing and held on as his body kept shaking. 

He didn’t know what was going on. Why were these people treating him like a baby? Why was he so _small?_

There was movement going on behind him and Sam stood up to step around the chairs. Dean kept his eyes shut tight. 

“Cas, can you hold him so I can get my coat on?” he heard Sam ask before he was transferred to the older male who had been so quiet towards him thus far.

“Sure,” Cas cooed – the older man – as he held Dean protectively in his arms. 

He listened as Sam undoubtedly put his coat on before being passed back – like a god damn football. He focused on breathing and the conversation going on between the two men.

“You sure you don’t want to put him in the carrier?” the man – Cas – asked.

“Yeah, I just want to carry him, I’ll put him in once we’re in the car.”

“You’re damn right you will.”

Dean felt himself shiver again as he was carried out of the room. 

Sam was still cupping Dean’s bottom and patting occasionally at his back. Often pressing kisses into the top of his head whenever he shook. All of which caused him to shake even more.

He listened as they got onto an elevator and the two men talked to each other in hushed tones before getting off.

By the sounds Dean could hear reverberating around him they were in the parking garage, and he heard the tell-tale sound of a car being unlocked before Sam shuffled him around. 

Dean opened his eyes and looked at the SUV that the two men were crowding around. Cas was strapping a baby carrier into the back seat and Sam’s hands were working to unwrap Dean from the blanket he was wrapped in.

By the time Cas’s task was finished Sam had Dean unwrapped. He could see now that he was wearing what looked like a potato sack that had snaps down at the bottom.

“Guess that didn’t really help,” Sam murmured as he also took in what Dean was wearing. “You think we can get the straps between his legs if he’s wearing this?” 

Cas turned around and considered Dean for a moment, “I’m not sure, you wanna change him? We have clothes in the trunk.”

Sam frowned and shook his head. “Nah, let’s just get him home, we can make this work.”

Sam then leaned forward and deposited Dean in the baby carrier, pulling a strap over his head and digging between his legs to pull out a third strap. They were able to make it work and before Dean knew it he was harnessed into the device in the back seat. 

It had to have been shock that kept him so complacent – and oblivious to the obvious, like the padding that went all around his groin and backside. But all Dean could really bring himself to do at the moment was shiver and stare wide-eyed at everything that was going on.

The door next to him was shut before Cas got in the driver’s seat and Sam crawled in the back with him.

Sam buckled himself in before turning a smile on him. “You ready to go home Dean?” Sam asked excitedly reaching out to sweep his hand across Dean’s head.

“I’m ready to get him home,” Cas said from the front seat where he was leaned over onto the passenger side digging through a puffy blue bag. “You want a pacifier?” Cas asked turning around and offering a small plastic object to Sam.

Sam answered an affirmative before turning to Dean, “whaddya say little guy, you want a pacifier?” 

Sam held the aforementioned object in front of his lips and Dean allowed for them to open, if not for the fact that he needed comfort then because he assumed Sam would prod him until he relented anyways. With that Sam pressed a kiss to his forehead and laid a blanket over Dean, tucking the edges around his body in the carrier.

Dean found himself huddling into the carrier and giving the pacifier a few experimental sucks. The action seemed almost reflexive. Natural even. And he continued to do so as he watched Cas back their car up and pull out of the concrete structure.

Dean was aware of the fact that Sam was keeping a hand on him. Rubbing at his stomach through the blanket or grabbing his feet and giving them a little squeeze, but he ignored the floppy-haired man in favor of looking out the car window in an attempt to recognize where they were. 

His attempt was pretty much useless however; as he could only see the tops of streetlights and the occasional tall building that they passed.

Dean began to feel more nervous and started sucking harder on the pacifier.

His increased agitation didn’t go by unnoticed as thick fingers grasp his chin lightly and tug his face over to look at Sam.

“You’re probably getting overwhelmed huh little guy?” Sam said with a genuine frown on his face. “I know everything has been stressful already, but I promise everything’s gonna be okay.”

“He okay?” 

“Yeah,” Sam answered Cas and turned back to face the front of the car while keeping a hand on Dean’s right leg, “he just looks a little shell-shocked is all.”

“It’s gonna be okay Sam. The sooner we get him home and settled into his new life and a routine he’ll perk up and be the smiling baby we want.” Cas assured the larger man in a familiar tone leading Dean to believe that this had been a source of major concern for the couple. Dean _settling_.

“I know,” Sam said in a soft whisper, giving Dean a quick squeeze as if he were the one who needed placating.

Dean tried to settle himself down. If there’s anything he had learned throughout his life it was that the best way to figure out a problematic situation was to remain calm at all times. 

*****

Despite what Dean had thought when the nurse at the hospital mentioned Dean falling asleep in the car he had eventually fallen asleep during the drive “home”. 

He woke up with moist eyes – something that happened to him whenever he was tired, his eyes would get all watery – and a little dribble of spit going down his chin; the latter had been caused by the fact that he had fallen asleep with the pacifier still held in his mouth. 

At realizing this Dean sucked the half-fallen rubber item back into his mouth and gave it a few good sucks before simply holding it in place.

Sam must have heard the soft sounds he was making as the large man leaned over the side of the carrier quietly and peered down at him.

“Hey sweetheart,” he cooed, “you finally awake?”

Dean turned to look up at Sam and locked eyes with the hazel ones staring down at him. 

Sam reached into his carrier and wiped away the moisture that had fallen from his eyes as he slept. “You enjoy your nap?” he asked conversationally.

Dean could only stare up at him with large eyes and instead of the grumbled response that he had planned on giving the man he opened his mouth wide for an unexpected yawn. This action caused his pacifier to drop and fall onto his body which he simply stared at until Sam reached down to retrieve it for him.

Against Dean’s better judgment when the older man offered the item Dean found himself opening his lips and accepting the rubber nipple that Sam popped into his mouth.

“You’re just in time,” Sam said tapping the plastic back of Dean’s pacifier, “we’re just about home.”

 _Really?_ Dean thought, because he had been asleep for quite some time, _how far from the hospital did they live?_

Now that the idea was brought to his attention Dean looked out the car window to see trees lined up near the street. He could make out the occasional steeped roof, but other than that the only other indication that they were in a residential area was the quiet speed with which Cas was driving.

Sure enough only a few minutes later the car was slowing down and turning into a driveway. Cas eased the vehicle into a garage and Dean was captivated by his new location as Sam tugged away his straps before undoing his own buckle and exiting the car. 

He came around on Dean’s side and hefted Dean out of the carrier.

“Cas? Can you grab his carrier for me?”

“Why don’t you just bring him inside in the carrier?” Cas questioned from the trunk.

Sam huffed and rearranged Dean so he was laying in his one arm, “the first time I bring our baby into our house isn’t going to happen with him in a car seat.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and silently hoped that the other male was doing so as well.

Sam then turned around and walked through a door attached to the garage. The smell and the temperature changed instantly; going from the dank engine oil and fumes coldness of an unheated garage to the warm, apple and cinnamon sugar smell of a house with a working furnace.

Sam walks straight through what looks like a laundry room and a kitchen before ending up in what Dean identifies as the living room as Sam sets him on the couch – all by himself on the large, comfortable cushions. 

“Okay, you stay here De,” Sam said before stepping away.

Dean craned his neck to watch Sam walk away and then let his head roll to the side so he could study the room he was in. He could see that the wall across from him was bare except for a large TV mounted to the wall. The shadows on the ceiling suggested that a large light source was nearby, but with Dean’s current position he couldn’t see much.

It took him only a few seconds of sitting there for him to realize that without the child straps or the thick blanket that had been swaddling him Dean had enough coordination about him to roll over on the couch and crawl about.

He angled his hips and fell into the divot between the two couch cushions with little effort. He then attempted to crawl to the armrest and pull himself up so look better about the room but the strange potato sack dressing he was wearing made it damn near impossible to use his legs. That, and before he was even allowed to give it too much of an attempt someone had returned and large hands were flipping him back down onto the cushion.

“Hey there squirmy,” came the voice, and Dean turned his head to look at Cas’s smiling face. “What say Papa and Daddy change you out of your hospital clothes huh?” Cas asked while he began to unsnap the sack Dean was contained in.

Cool air hit Dean’s bare legs as Cas started worming the garment over Dean’s body. The cool indifference that Dean had been experiencing at his situation began to fade as the large man standing over him started tugging at plastic straps over Dean’s hips and – and 

“Let’s change your diaper huh?”

Dean was mortified. Spitting out his pacifier he started cursing at the older man. “What the hell are you talking about! Why the fuck am I in a diaper!”

His legs were pulled high up in the air and his now naked butt was placed back onto the soft cushion.

Dean wasn’t about to lay down for a diaper change.

He rolled to the side and started crawling away on the couch as quickly as he could – and he was aided with the fact that the garment he was wearing had been unbuttoned. He heard the sound of a padded diaper being dropped and he could almost _feel_ the hands reaching for him.

Just as large hands made to wrap around his torso Dean used all of the muscles his pathetically small legs had in them to leap the few inches separating him from the edge of the couch. For one blissful moment he was free from the hands that were stripping him – and then he was face first on the soft – but not soft enough – area rug in the living room. 

And as much as Dean didn’t want to admit it, it kind of hurt.

“Dean!” Cas shouted while snatching him up, “oh my goodness sweetheart are you all right?” 

Dean was cuddled against the man’s chest while one hand pet through his hair, feeling with careful fingers for tender spots. When Cas’s fingers hit the place where Dean had hit his head he couldn’t help but flinch and whimper.

“Oh, sweetie,” Cas said pressing his lips to the crown of Dean’s head, not in a semblance of a kiss, but more or less comforting pressure on the area. It was a weird gesture that left Dean confused. The touch seemed wholly unnecessary and yet it made him feel warm with affection. 

Dean heard thundering steps, “Cas! What happened?” he heard Sam ask in a startled voice from somewhere behind the couch.

“I went to go take off his diaper and he wiggled his way off of the couch before I could grab him,” Cas said –Dean could hear the upset in the older man’s voice – and Cas’s lips moved over the skin on Dean’s head as he refused to remove them.

“Is he okay?” was asked as the other man stepped closer and placed his own hand on Dean’s back.

“He has a sore spot on his head from when he fell,” Cas admitted, “but I think as long as we keep an eye on it he’ll be okay.”

Sam murmured an affirmative, “babies are more resilient that you’d think.”

Dean felt Cas nod and place small kisses to the spot where his lips were planted.

“Can you help me change him?” Cas asked, “I don’t want him getting hurt again.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

Cas handed Dean off to Sam, who sat on the couch with Dean laying out on his legs – head pillowed on Sam’s chest. Sam held onto Dean’s sides and bent over to look at the little boy in his lap.

“Guess I’m gonna have to hold you down so Papa can change you hmm?” Sam asked leaning his head down. “You’re not gonna be this squirmy all the time are you sweetheart?”

“He could be,” Cas said coming back with what Dean identified as a clean diaper, “some babies are just like that, but we’ll get better at the whole diapering thing. Until then we’ll just have to do it as a team.”

Sam smiled down at Dean – who had began to fidget as Cas got closer. Dean didn’t want to be put into a diaper, but his repeated experience with talking hadn’t gone so great so far, and unless he could figure out a way to suddenly take down two fully grown men in his state he wasn’t going to get out of it. 

So instead of attempting another pathetic escape Dean closed his eyes and felt himself break out into a cold sweat as hard plastic was pulled between Sam’s jeans and Dean’s bare ass. One of Cas’s hands grabbed both of Dean’s ankles and held his butt – exposed to the air, to _everything_ \-- up in the air while he dragged a baby wipe over his privates and ass. 

Next came the humiliation that was diaper rash cream -- _diaper rash cream!_ – and baby powder before another diaper was tugged and strapped on.

Dean kept his eyes pressed shut the entire time.

He listened to Cas cleaning things up and putting things away while Sam twisted him around on his lap.

“Hey sweetheart, where’d those pretty eyes go, hmm?” 

Sam was talking to him – hands holding his bare feet and thumbs rubbing the soles. 

“Did you not like that diaper change Papa gave you?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean refused to open his eyes and he felt his lower lip pout out in his frustrations. He was doing his cold sweat thing again, which happened whenever he was in a particularly stressful situation where he was afforded no way out. 

He was aware of movement, and Sam juggling him around in his arms, but he did his best to shut them out. 

All Dean wanted at the moment was for his nightmare to be over. He just wanted to go back to his normal body where he could’ve kicked these guys’ asses and ran back to his motel room to finish up his solo hunt on the witch bitch who had very clearly hit him with a spell before he had a chance to kill her ass. 

He wanted the diaper off, and to stop being manhandled by these guys who kept calling themselves Papa and Daddy, and he _especially_ wanted the baby-talk to end.

Dean wasn’t aware that he had begun to cry in his frustrations until he heard an over-the-top gentle coo and felt fingers brush his cheeks.

He opened his eyes despite his resolve to keep them shut.

“What’s with the tears sweetheart?” Sam asked tugging at the back of the garment Dean was still dressed in.

“What did you want to dress him in?” Dean heard Cas ask behind him.

“Just a onesie,” Sam said over Dean’s head before refocusing his attention on him. “I know you’re probably all sorts of cranky and tired De, but how about this,” Sam said while standing up from the couch. “Papa and I are going to change you out of your smelly hospital clothes and we’re gonna get some food in your belly” – which was said with a responding pat to Dean’s stomach – “and then we’re going to lay you down for the night so you can go sleepy-byes. Sound good?”

Sam talked to Dean in such frustratingly chipper tones and yet Dean was actually kind of calmed down to hear what the next few hours had planned for him. 

He didn’t kick up a fuss then when Sam pulled the god-awful potato sack off of him and the two men tucked his arms into a long-sleeved emerald green onesie that snapped at the crotch. 

And he was surprisingly tolerant as Cas carried him into the kitchen to place him in a rubber chair on the kitchen island. The chair had a divider that went between his legs and a harness that came over his chest and strapped him in much like his car carrier had done. Cas had then snapped a tray in place just above Dean’s knees.

Dean had a moment to contemplate the chair before a flash of white went over his head. He fluttered his arms about trying to duck away from the item, but all that earned him was a soft chuckle and a kiss on top of his head as Cas secured the _bib_ around his neck. 

Cas then stepped away and Dean tried pulling the damn bib off, but no matter how hard he pulled the friggin snaps wouldn’t give!

He made his frustration known by grumbling quite loudly.

“What’s with the grizzling huh?” Sam asked as he sat down at a stool at the bar and slid Dean and his chair closer on the counter. “You gettin hungry, or just more cranky?”

Dean pouted at him and decided that if it was a baby they wanted, then it was a baby they were going to get.

Cas came back with a banana a knife and a rubber spoon. He handed the spoon to Sam and then proceeded to use the knife to cut the banana up into manageable chucks that he dropped on the tray so that Sam could scoop them up and feed them to Dean.

Dean wasn’t about to roll over and play placid baby to these two dicks though, and at the first drop of banana on the tray Dean nabbed the yellow fruit with his chubby hands and started lobbing pieces about the kitchen. 

He made high screeching noises to complete his actions and smiled at the surprise he managed to glean from the two men’s faces. 

Just as he reached down intent on throwing banana chunks at the men themselves a large _paw_ covered his hands over the tray.

“Whoa there someone has some energy,” Sam chuckled as Cas only too happily went about the kitchen retrieving the bits of banana that had been flung about.

Dean could only pathetically watch as Sam spooned up a banana piece and held it in front of his mouth. He was all set to deny the feeding though, and instead of giving in to his aching stomach he grabbed the spoon from Sam’s hand with all the speed he could manage and propelled the utensil over his head. 

The clanking sound it earned him was enough to make him smile.

It also earned him a frown.

“That wasn’t very nice De,” Sam said pointing a stern finger at him.

“Can I try something?” Cas asked stepping up beside Sam.

Sam turned to look at the other man and shrugged, “sure.”

Dean watched as the older man took up the seat before him and Cas leaned forward to wrap his arms around the chair Dean was in and pulled him closer to the edge. He tried leaning back in his rubberized confinement, but he had no means of escape, and when Cas tipped his head forward Dean found himself forehead to forehead with the man.

And those sharp blue eyes were hard to look away from.

“I’m going to help you eat some of your banana, and then how about you and I walk around the house and explore a little bit, hmm?” Cas asked softly.

That perked Dean’s interest. Getting a lay of the land would assist him in figuring out what exactly his situation was.

He reluctantly nodded which prompted Cas to pull away.

“Okay, how ‘bout we just do this by hand, yeah?” Cas asked picking up one of the pieces and bringing it up to Dean’s mouth.

It only took a few prods before Dean popped his mouth open and actually ate the food presented to him. And if it caused the two other men to smile at the sight of his cheeks undoubtedly puffed out with food, well, then that he could ignore. 

*****

Half a banana – and one grumpy scowl at having his face wiped off involuntarily on the bib – later Dean was where he wanted to be.

Not entirely, he supposed, but he was on his hands and knees crawling as quickly as he could to gather as much intel as he could before the man who irritatingly called himself _Papa_ decided he had humored Dean long enough and whisked him away to the dreaded _beddy-bye_ he was constantly being threatened with.

Once his feeding had come to a conclusion Cas had kept his promise and placed Dean on the kitchen floor, encouraging him to crawl around and explore, and damnit if Dean wasn’t going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. He had immediately taken off through the kitchen and into the hallway that led to either the laundry room – and subsequently the garage – or the living room depending on which way he turned. 

Dean opted for the living room and took off as fast as his uncoordinated limbs could carry him.

He stopped periodically in his crawling to crane his head up and check things out. Furniture arrangements, decorative pieces on the walls, shelving, window placements. He noted everything. 

He crawled around the living room a bit, taking a moment’s reprieve from the hard wood floors on his delicate knees by sitting down on the soft area rug he had knocked his head on earlier as he studied the large sliding glass doors that led outside.

It was the lighting source that had originally garnered his attention when he had first been brought to the room and now he was taking a moment to analyze all that he could with the view afforded to him.

Sam and Cas very clearly lived in a well off neighborhood. Their backyard was large and spotted with dips and hills, yet when he scrunched up his eyes he could see houses off in the distance. Perhaps a few hundred yards away. 

The backyard itself was one that was decked out for parties. A large pool was in the ground set off to the left. And a large brick patio with a built-in fire pit just off of the patio doors. They were on the edge of Spring, stuck in that time period where weather was mid-forties or fifties in this particular region of the Mid-west and yet snow still found a way to cling to the ground in hardened icy clumps. 

A few piles of snow clung to the steps of the brick patio that was just outside of the door, and to the lip of the pool that was above ground. 

It seemed that even if Dean was lucky enough to make it outside – because he wasn’t even steady enough to _stand_ on his stupidly short legs, let alone was he tall enough to even _reach_ a door handle – it seemed that the odds were stacked against him in his event of escape. 

He sighed at that knowledge and turned to get on his hands and knees and start crawling again when he realized his personal space had been intruded upon. He craned his head up to see crouched knees and a bent waist before reaching Cas’s eyes.

“Whatcha looking at sweetheart?” 

Dean frowned and answered the man with a “my pitiful chances of a breakout,” which simply earned him a bright smile.

When large hands swooped down to meet him Dean dropped down on his backside, expecting the hands to haul him up and away from his attempts at learning his surroundings, but instead of clamping him underneath his armpits Cas grabbed one of Dean’s hands in each of his and carefully tugged Dean into a semi-standing position.

Dean was floored by this fact. 

With Cas taking on the responsibility of stabilizing him Dean found that he could actually take steps and walk about the room.

He smiled with determination and began to walk about the place as if he wasn’t toddling around holding the hands of some grinning weirdo.

With Cas as his unwitting assistant Dean was able to finish his tour of the first floor. He found a bathroom, formal sitting room, dining room and the room Cas dubbed as “Daddy’s office space,” before he ran out of square footage.

It was just in time too, because holding himself up – even with Cas’s help – was sucking the energy out of him quicker than he would have considered possible. The duo had returned to the living room where Dean kind of wanted to drop off for a break when suddenly Cas’s hands left his. The move was so sudden and left Dean unsupported in his tired state, and just as he expected to crumple to the ground those same large hands gripped him by his sides and tossed him up in the air. 

Dean felt himself spin and he locked his body up tight -- _terrified_ at the prospect of being thrown so easily into the air – when hands were catching him and lowering him so that he hovered facing Cas’s upturned face.

The older male was widely grinning up at Dean and his eyes were bright. “S’that fun?” he asked.

Dean was just about to answer him with a _“No. Being thrown into the air unwillingly is horrifying, not fun,”_ when Cas’s arms lowered him and tossed him into the air a second time. 

His eyes widened as Cas seemed to get so much _smaller_ as he was propelled several feet higher than the standing male, and just as he felt himself lock down again at being up so high, he felt himself falling down again. 

This time Cas held Dean to his chest and cooed at him. “Can’t tell if you’re shocked or terrified there buddy,” Cas said conversationally. “Maybe not so high, hmm?”

And _again_ before Dean could get a word in he was tossed up in the air. 

This time at least it wasn’t so high.

Cas threw and caught him several times in rapid succession and after the initial moment of fear he had felt on the first two aerial flights passed he actually felt something akin to amusement. The way that Cas was playing with him felt so _genuine_ and so _care-free_. Emotions he hadn’t readily experienced on a daily basis. 

But just as he was about to let out a -- _shudders_ – giggle at the man’s actions Sam stepped into the room and put a stop to Cas’s actions with a loud gasp.

“Cas!” the man shrieked, “what the hell! He’s a baby not a rubber ball!”

Unperturbed by Sam’s lack-luster reaction Cas simply caught Dean and rearranged him in his arms before facing the younger man. “He’s perfectly fine Sam, I wasn’t going to drop him.”

“No one ever _plans_ on hurting their kids,” Sam argued back.

“True, but did you see how smiley he was on that last toss?” 

And damnit, if Dean’s cheek muscles were any indication he _had_ been smiling pretty wide on that last one.

“Do you think he’d really be that happy if he ended up back in a hospital tonight?” was Sam’s retort.

Cas just huffed and turned his blue eyes down on Dean. “Daddy just doesn’t know how to have fun, huh De?”

Dean heard a snort and turned to look at the other man. 

“Babe, why don’t you just put Dean down for the night. He’s probably going to pass out the minute you put him down, and I’m almost done with dinner.”

Cas nodded and turned around to take the stairs that Dean wasn’t able to make his way up yet. “Be down in a minute,” he called behind him.

Dean watched with wide eyes as Cas turned on overhead lights in the hallway and walked into a large room that had to be the master bedroom. Cas flipped on the lights with his elbow and walked to place Dean on the large four poster bed that dominated the room.

“Just hold tight for a second little man,” Cas said before turning around to step up to a large dresser with a few pieces of baby paraphernalia on it, such as bottles, diapers, blankets and a stuffed bear. 

Cas returned with a pacifier, a blanket and a soft smile.

“Mkay, let’s get you ready for bed,” he said popping the pacifier into Dean’s unsuspecting mouth. 

Dean sucked on the rubber teat and simply watched as Cas unfolded the blanket. It looked like a soft blue fleece with white satin edges and Cas had it laid out on the bed before placing Dean in the center of it. 

He was helpless to stop Cas’s first attempt at swaddling him, and was hesitant to admit that being bundled up so snugly felt kind of nice.

Before Dean knew it he was back to being incapable of movement and Cas was beaming down at him.

“Perfect,” the man mumbled above him before scooping him in his arms. He then turned and approached an object Dean hadn’t noticed before. He was expecting the man to bring him into a separate room and place him in a crib – he was being treated like a baby after all. But was surprised when he was placed in a _stupidly comfortable_ old fashioned baby bassinette. 

Dean looked up at the man with wide uncertain eyes, and was only answered back with a gentle coo and soft fingers carding through his short hair. 

Cas reached out and began rocking the structure Dean was in, in an attempt to get him to fall asleep. 

And damnit, despite Dean’s best try his eyes started drifting shut without his say. 

He let out a few grumbles – which were answered with “I know sweetheart, it’s been a long day. Just sleep for now and it’ll all be better in the morning.”

And with a few more feeble eye flutters Dean was asleep.

*****

Cas looked down at the small toddler who was finally asleep. Dean was going to be quite the challenge as he had proved already. He only hoped that tomorrow things would start to improve.

With a final kiss to Dean’s forehead Cas left his and Sam’s bedroom and joined his husband downstairs in the kitchen.

Sam was already eating, so Cas sat down at his spot at the counter and started eating the plate of spaghetti Sam had left for him.

“He asleep?”

“Yeah,” Cas said with an explosive sigh.

“Quite the night huh?”

Cas snorted, “he’s quite the individual.” 

Sam smiled as he took a sip of wine and turned to him. “Sarah did warn us that he might be a bit much.”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t think he’s too bad. Just scared and trying to figure things out.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “We still gonna tell him in the morning?”

Cas nodded, “I think knowing the truth about everything will go a long way in earning his trust in us.”

“Me too,” Sam said turning back to his own plate.

They ate in silence for a few more minutes.

“I already love him Sammy,” Cas said with a quiet whisper, “what if he doesn’t like us?”

Sam slipped a hand around his husband’s neck and pulled him in for a quick kiss. “We have a year to change his mind babe. He’s not gonna like us, he’s gonna _love_ us.”

Cas stared straight into his husband’s eyes looking for any sense of doubt. “You sure?”

“Of course,” Sam said with all of the confidence he could muster, “our little boy is going to be with us forever Cas.”

“I hope you’re right.”


	2. Cowboys or Monkeys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are any mistakes in this chapter. I claim all of those as I was too excited to do much proof-reading.
> 
> Would love to hear from ya'll!!

Dean awoke to rather unpleasant pressure. There was a painful, _pinching_ sensation that overtook the muscles of his bladder and he realized with a jolt that he really, _really_ had to pee. He wiggled about in his tightly wrapped blanket, trying to dislodge it so that he could – he wasn’t sure what – but he was trying desperately to do _something_ to ease the pressure.

He kept shifting about in his bassinette and clamped down on the muscles in his lower abdomen. He spit his pacifier out of his mouth so he could take large breaths to keep himself stable, and prevent himself from letting go. 

From the darkness in the room he could tell that it was late night, possibly a few hours after midnight, and the soft breathing that he heard to his right had to be Sam and Cas sleeping in their bed. 

Dean bit his lip and tipped his head back as he sighed. His choices were being taken from him as he felt his chest rumble as he started to grumble out complaints to the two other occupants in the room.

“Hey! Hey assholes! I have to piss!” Dean announced, certain that though his words wouldn’t be understood that at least the volume with which he spoke would wake up at least one of the two men.

He figured that if he was forced to wake up because of his uncomfortable bladder that “Papa” and “Daddy” should too.

As he was squirming around trying to get himself free he saw a large darkened silhouette approach where he was and flip on a dim night light.

It was Cas.

“Wha’s wrong honey?” he said leaning over the bassinette.

And now that Dean had the older man’s attention he saw the flaw in his plan. If Cas caught onto the fact that he had to pee then he’d have to go through the embarrassment of getting his diaper changed again.

Cas straightened and made to reach into the bassinette to lift him.

“Oh, uh, I – I changed my mind, just go back to bed! Please!” Dean wasn’t over begging now.

But he was too late; Cas’s hands were scooping him out of his blankets, and holding him close to his chest.

“You hungry?” the man said quietly – half question, half statement to himself – as he carried Dean out of the room with him.

Dean whined as Cas’s large hand put unwanted pressure on his bladder and he continued to squirm in Cas’s grasp.

Cas hummed inquisitively while he adjusted Dean in his grip. Suddenly two large fingers were pressing their way into the leg of Dean’s diaper to check him for wetness.

Dean squawked indignantly and hit the man repeatedly on the shoulder in an attempt to chastise him for his actions.

“Sorry, sorry sweetheart. Just wanted to see,” Cas mumbled apologetically as he descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen.

Dean was cradled one-armed as Cas worked to heat up a bottle for him.

Dean’s squirming made Cas think that he needed consoling and so Cas started bouncing him in his grasp.

The bouncing made sharp pains appear in the muscles of his bladder and Dean cried out a little at how unbearable it was. 

Cas ducked his head down and pressed kisses onto his forehead and Dean was back to trying to understand the reluctant warmth that he felt in his belly at the attention he was shown. 

Once the bottle was properly heated Cas turned to walk into the living room. He sat down on the couch and reclined, putting his feet up on the cushions and laying his head down on a throw pillow. 

Dean found himself on his back on Cas’s chest as one of the man’s hands pulled down a blanket from the back of the couch and one hand rubbed at Dean’s stomach. He gave a half-hearted wiggle as he was once again surrounded by warmth, and soon a rubber nipple presented itself to him. Dean sighed at the sight of it before latching on and sucking at the milk filled bottle; resigned to the fact that the only way the tickle of hunger in his belly would go away was if he gave in and drank what was given to him.

Only a quarter of the way through the bottle though Dean let go of the nipple with a pop and whined as he shifted his pelvic area around on Cas’s chest.

“You alright Dean?” Cas asked while his hands came up to the little boy’s sides to assist him in wiggling around to be chest to chest with the man. 

Dean wasn’t one to really beg and give in to a situation, but the pressure on his bladder _hurt_ and he wasn’t evens sure what he wanted at this point.

Dean lifted up on his stubby arms and crawled until his face was level with Cas’s. In the dim light he was still able to make out the concern in those simultaneously hard and soft blue eyes; he only hoped that the older man was able to make out the blatant desperation in his own green ones. 

Dean put a hand on each of the man’s stubbly cheeks, and held his gaze as he sat up and tucked his legs under his padded rump.

“Dean? What’s --?” Cas began to ask as Dean’s body gave a sudden clench as the bladder pressure he was experiencing hit another one of its painful peaks. Cas’s eyes widened at that as he undoubtedly put two and two together and realized what was wrong with Dean.

“Oh, oh sweetheart!” Cas cooed in a heart breakingly tender tone of voice. He sat up and cradled Dean to his chest – abandoning the bottle on the coffee table – as the younger male clutched at the man’s sleep shirt. Dean was outright whining at this point. “Oh honey are you having trouble going potty?”

Dean whined extra loud at the question, a combination of affirming the man’s inquiry and indignation at the way Cas worded it.

“Papa will help,” he said as he began walking about the room, giving Dean’s pelvis a gentle squeeze – to which Dean cried out quite loudly.

“Oo, I know, I know,” Cas said running a reassuring hand up and down Dean’s back. “Just go ahead and relax sweetie. Just let go and Papa will clean you right away.”

Dean clenched his delicate fingers in the material he was holding. He didn’t want to just “let go” as Cas so helpfully put it. He was a grown man for Crissakes! No matter how tiny his body appeared he did have the mental capacity to control his own bladder goddamnit! So no, he was going to fight it. He was going to use all of his remaining resolve to fight it, because at this point it was the only thing left that he _could_ control.

Just as he had made up his mind to keep his dignity by indefinitely holding his urge to pee Cas pressed a knowing hand to Dean’s lower back. With a loud squall that rang his own ears Dean felt the carefully kept control over his bladder break, and a hot spurt of urine began to fill out his diaper. 

Dean went limp, and pressed his face to Cas’s chest. 

Hot tears of mortification, frustration, and a bit of relief swept down his face and Dean just _broke_.

He openly _cried_. Jaw unhinged, mouth open, teary eyed, slimy nose _cried_ at what had happened. It had been over a decade since he had done something so childish – so pathetically weak – as crying like an infant. But as the man who called himself Papa held Dean close – and pressed kisses to his head, and offered words of praise and comfort –Dean couldn’t be bothered to care. 

 

Dean hadn’t realized his eyes were shut so forcefully until Cas tried prying his fingers from his shirt, and Dean opened his eyes to see just how badly he has messed up the man’s shirt with his relentless crying.

Dean would deny the fact that his crying increased even in the _slightest_ as Cas separated himself from him and placed Dean on his back on the cushions. He reached up with searching arms, wanting the comfort that he had both despised and desperately needed that he had found in the older man’s arms.

Cas got down on his knees before the couch and put his forehead to Dean’s; which allowed Dean to latch his hands into the hairs on Cas’s head to ensure that the man stayed in place. 

The volume with which Dean was screaming – because it really couldn’t be classified as anything else at this point – had to have been hurting the man’s ears, but Cas showed no indication that the ear-splitting noise was effecting him.

Cas simply held onto Dean’s sides, rubbing his large thumbs along Dean’s chest, and pressing kisses to Dean’s face as the smaller male worked through his tears.

It took longer than he would have liked, but eventually his crying tapered down to stuttered breaths and breathy exhales before Cas gently reached up to disentangle Dean’s fingers from his messy black hair.

Cas held Dean’s tiny hands in his own and pressed a final kiss to Dean’s nose. “You okay now?” Cas murmured, to which Dean was able to give a jerky nod.

Tired and hot from tears Dean allowed Cas to hold both his hands in one of his as the older man swept his already soiled shirt over Dean’s wet cheeks; removing the evidence of tears which made Dean feel like part of his dignity had been returned to him.

After that he didn’t really have the energy to fight Cas on the diaper change, that and he figured that having himself cleaned up was better than the alternative – which was being stuck in a diaper sopping wet with rapidly cooling urine.

When he remained still he actually found that he became warm, dry and comfortable once again in only a quick – barely perceptible – minute. 

After Cas had Dean cleaned up and his onesie snapped up at the crotch again, Cas hauled Dean into a sitting position by his underarms as the older man crouched down to be at eye level with him.

“You wanna finish your bottle?” Cas whispered before picking him up without an answer. Dean found it very natural to curl up against the man’s chest and grab at the loose material of his shirt collar as he did so. Cas cleaned away the diaper paraphernalia with his free hand before snatching up the forgotten bottle and relaxing once again on the couch. He popped the bottle’s nipple into Dean’s mouth and let out a huge sigh.

Impending crisis of an exploding bladder averted, and coming down from the adrenaline rush fueled by his bought of tears, Dean didn’t have it left in him to care about anything other than the sweet tasting milk that he was being allowed to drink down. 

Besides the fact that it was milk, it was amazing to Dean how filling it was. It wasn’t often that Dean found himself warm and comfortable while also being topped off with a full stomach – all of which having been provided freely to him.

Dean snuggled against Cas’s chest and allowed his cheek to rest on the man’s firm muscles as he placidly sucked down his milk and stared up into Cas’s amused, happy looking eyes. As his mind was wearing down Dean gave in to the temptation to reach up and pat at the soft pink lips that were smiling down at him. 

At that Cas’s lips broke out into a wide grin before making a puckered kiss to the palm of Dean’s tiny hand.

And despite the fact that he was tired and frustrated Dean allowed the corner of his mouth to lift up into a barely there smile.

Dean then turned his attention back to his bottle and fell asleep watching the level of the milk slowly go down.

*****

That’s what Sam walked in on when he came down to the living room after having woke up and realized his bed was empty. 

Sam had checked Dean’s bassinette quickly before traipsing downstairs and spying his husband on the couch with their sleeping baby on his chest.

Sam came up behind the couch and leaned over the back to stare at Dean’s sleeping face. Cas in turn tilted his head up to knowingly receive a kiss on the lips from him. Sam rested his head next to Cas’s and the two sat calmly watching Dean sleep.

The male in question was cradled in the crook of Cas’s left arm. One hand curled around Cas’s shirt, and the other in a tight fist raised slightly in the air.

Sam frowned and reached out to run a finger along the tightly clenched knuckles.

“Christ, he really is tense,” Sam said as an observation. “How the hell can someone look so strung out while they’re asleep?”

The question was rhetorical but Cas attempted an answer anyways, “a lifetime of always being on the edge. Sarah said he was a hunter; kid has to be trained to fight any and every threat. Probably was always prepared to fight or run,” Cas said calmly and quickly.

“Look at his hands;” Cas said running a finger over what Sam had just touched, “they’re clenched so tight, even in sleep. I wouldn’t be surprised if he slept every night with his hand around some sort of weapon.”

Sam frowned and downturned his eyes. It was heartbreaking to hear such theories being applied to their little boy. “I just want him to be happy,” Sam confessed in a desperate voice.

Cas nodded and swept his fingers across Dean’s forehead, smoothing back the hairs. “He’s going to be happy,” Cas said knowingly – though it was only just last night Sam had been the one calming Cas down, it was why parenthood worked better in pairs Sam supposed – “you’ll see.”

*****

Having Dean in the house so suddenly unfortunately kind of made a mess of things. They didn’t have a lot of things on hand that they would need to take care of someone Dean’s size, nor had they planned their lives out to accommodate caring for an infant. So it was no surprise to either man that their first morning with Dean was a little hectic. 

It started a few hours earlier than they usually did, which allowed Sam time to call in to work to explain the situation and let his bosses know that he would come in later in the day to square away some of his work so that he could at least take the next few days off of work – giving the three of them a proper chance to settle. 

Cas had it a little easier. As Sam’s stay at home trophy husband he didn’t have a job to notify, but he did have the hassle of trying to come up with a routine for the little boy currently in attendance at their house.

After Dean’s late night bottle the boy slept for a few more hours, allowing Cas and Sam to take turns showering and getting ready.

Sam had called work while Cas got breakfast ready, and they were both on their second cups of coffee before they heard any stirring from living room. Being as unprepared as they were Sam and Cas had only had time to buy the most basic things. A collection of onesies, diapers, formula and the bassinette the baby store had on hand. 

There was no time for forethought on things such as playpens, baby monitors, toys, baby food, proper medication or special soaps. They did put in an order for a crib and changing table that they wanted, but that had been all that they were able to do. So while Dean finished out his sleep Sam and Cas had placed him on the soft, cushy floor rug in the living room. 

They figured that he would be better off on the soft floor than the couch, as they boy had already proven to them his affinity for crawling and squirming, and the last thing that they wanted was for the small boy to roll off of the couch in his sleep and hurt himself like he had done the day before during his first diaper change. 

Cas actually heard it before Sam did, “it” being the soft thudding sounds which meant that Dean was awake and crawling on the hardwood that was installed all throughout the first floor.

Cas was up and out of his chair before Sam could process what the other man was hearing, and Sam was just placing his piece of toast back on the plate before he heard a “where’s Dean _ie_ ” from the other room.

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes at his husband’s playful affections. 

It was only a few seconds more before Cas exclaimed “there he is!” before coming into the room carrying a sleep ruffled Dean.

Sam grinned happily at the sight of the little boy in his emerald onesie – chubby legs on display – with his ever present pout and curious eyes. Cas was holding him with one arm under the boys rump and the other locked across his tiny chest; he sat back down at the breakfast bar with Dean’s back to his chest and the two men proceeded to feed tiny bits of egg and jelly covered toast to the small boy. Dean ate up the food regardless of what it was or if it came off of a fork or finger. 

Sam and Cas were all smiles for breakfast, but they knew that as soon as the meal was over they were going to be sitting the younger boy down and talking to him. 

The two men had agreed that being truthful with Dean from the very beginning would be their best option, as it would make for a more trusting environment, and quite likely allow Dean to feel less stressed than he already had. 

It was when Cas fed Dean the last bit of egg and kissed him on his pudgy cheek with a chipper “all done!” that Sam finally started to feel nervous. 

Cas passed Dean off to Sam who used an old dish cloth to wipe at Dean’s face – though it was much cleaner now than it had been the night before with the banana – and then sat the little boy in the rubber chair that they had bought to use until their highchair came in. 

Once Cas had come back after putting the dirty dishes in the sink and with a refill on his and Sam’s coffee – while also bringing with a bottle of water for Dean – they realized it was now or never and Sam began the conversation.

He murmured a thanks to Cas and took a sip of his coffee and set it down – well out of Dean’s reach – before clearing his throat.

“Dean,” Sam said with a tone of voice that one would use on peers instead of children, “Cas and I have a bit of a confession to make.” 

Sam had started off talking to Dean while looking directly into those intelligent green eyes, but in order to say it Sam had to placate himself with looking at Dean’s knees. “We know you aren’t a baby, at least in a mental sense.”

“We also know that you were a hunter,” Cas cut in, for which Sam was grateful – and both he and the younger male turned to look at the man – “We know you were on a hunt for a witch and that she cursed you so that you would revert back to infancy and that you also possess all of the mental acuity that you had before the curse.”

“And so we know – more than you’d think – that this has been a hard adjustment for you,” Cas continued, “and before we get into more about the curse we’d like to let you know more about ourselves.”

Sam reached out and took Cas’s hand, jumping back in as the foreman of the conversation, “My name is Sam Wesson, and this is my husband, Castiel Wesson – or Cas for short. We’ve been married for eight years --.”

“And they’ve been the best eight years of my life,” Cas added.

Sam smirked and kissed his husband on his cheek. “Since we’re both men we obviously can’t have any children, though we want them, and so we’ve been looking into adoption.”

“But it’s a much more difficult process than it should be and hasn’t worked out so far,” Cas mentioned.

“And my cousin – Sarah – knew about this,” Sam said, and this was where they were getting to the tricky part. “And she said she was going to do something to help us out. Now, _we_ didn’t know what she meant by this, I always thought that she was going to write a recommendation letter to the adoption agency,” Sam admitted.

“But what she did was curse you,” Cas said.

“So here’s the thing,” Sam said – and now that he was looking back into Dean’s eyes he felt like an idiot, mostly because Dean really looked like an infant and he was talking to him like a grown ass man – “this curse Sarah put on you – and, that’s her name, I don’t know if you knew her by something else, but the witch, er, my cousin, her name is Sarah – well, the curse is going to last one year.”

And now Dean’s eyes were _wide_ like shock victim wide and Sam was worried that they were only going to exacerbate the situation by explaining it to Dean – though there was no turning back now. 

“It’s going to last one year,” Sam repeated, “and if after a year you find that you absolutely hate your new life, you’ll go back to being, well --,” Sam broke off and looked at Cas, uncertain of his next statement.

“How old did she say he was?”

“Twenty?” 

“I thought it was nineteen.”

“Well either way,” Cas said with a brush of his hand, “if after a year you hate it you’ll go back to being how you were before the curse, but if you find out that you like this life,” Cas shrugged, “you’ll stay our baby and live a new life.”

Sam and Cas had finished what it was they had to say, and yet Dean wasn’t making any indication he understood – though it wasn’t like he could say anything, as all he could get out at his current level of development was glorified baby-talk.

“I know you can’t really ask any questions at the moment, but we’re going to do our best to let you know everything, though I guess the rest is just details at the moment.”

Cas nodded his head in agreement, “we can let you know things as we think of them, but how about for now we get you ready and go shopping hmm? We didn’t have a lot of time to prepare for you and we’d like to run out and get some supplies,” Cas said plucking Dean up out of the rubber chair. “Then we can come back and take a nap, sound good?”

Sam watched his husband walk off with Dean, likely taking him upstairs to change him and to pull some “pants” onto the little boy so that he could be warm on their shopping trip together. He knew that they had thrown a lot at the little guy, and that it would likely take a while for him to become comfortable with the situation, but instead of sitting around on their thumbs he also figured that getting out and spoiling Dean would be the best way to convince him that it wasn’t a shitty situation that he had been thrown into, but rather a wonderful one. 

*****

“Hmm, Cowboys or Monkeys, what do you think Dean?” Cas turned his attention to the toddler in the seat of the shopping cart.

Dean’s face had been in a perpetual pout ever since he and Sam had sat the younger male down and told him the particulars of his situation. 

They had driven out to the local baby department store to pick up some necessities and get some much needed parenting books so that they could take better care of Dean. But while Sam had been cooing over the tiny shoes and Cas had been barely contained in his excitement at picking out clothing to fit the small male Dean had sat stoically in the shopping cart seat and watched on with a blatant disregard for his surroundings.

It had bothered Cas a great deal during the first half of their shopping trip, but after talking with Sam and understanding that the little boy was likely still trying to come to terms with all of this new information, he knew that he was better off shopping like normal. Showing Dean all of the affection he needed until he came back to himself and was ready to be an active participant in his life again. 

Cas held up the two sets of crib sheets in his hands and considered his little boy in the cart, Dean had been sloppily chewing on the knuckles of his left hand for nearly the past fifteen minutes, and while it was adorable to watch those pink puffy lips get all drooly with spit, Cas knew that Dean wasn’t actually in an infant mindset and was likely worrying away at the skin in distress.

He frowned and reached into the cart – around the stock piles of new clothes that could last _months_ – and into the little diaper bag that they had fortunately had the forethought of putting together. He dug out a pacifier with a clip and then leaned back to attach the clip to the front of Dean’s blue long-sleeved onesie before he pulled the spit-slick hand away from the boy’s mouth.

“How about a pacifier instead, hmm?” 

Dean’s curious green eyes considered Cas’s offering for only a moment before opening his mouth, allowing him to pop the pacifier in. Dean started sucking in earnest and actually looked up at Cas’s eyes for the first time in almost forty-five minutes.

“Hey cutie, I was wondering where your pretty eyes were,” Cas said with a grin and watched how his words brought a blush to Dean’s already baby pink cheeks and made him look down.

Dean began fiddling with the strap on the pacifier and Cas brought up the options of bed-sheets again.

“So which one are you thinking, hmm? Cowboys or Monkeys?”

Dean looked at the options presented to him and Cas watched on, hoping for an answer. He wasn’t getting anything from the little boy however.

Just as Cas was about to make the choice himself Dean reached out and hesitantly fingered the packaging for the cowboy bed-set.

“Ah,” Cas vocalized, setting the monkey sheets back on the shelf. “So you don’t wanna be Papa’s little monkey?”

Dean shook his head.

“You like Cowboys?” 

Dean nodded.

Cas smiled as he pushed Dean through the aisle that contained bed linens, feeling like someone had handed him a golden nugget at understanding this precious bit of information about their son.

He whipped out his phone and swiped away from the screen which outlined a laundry list of items he and Sam had made up which had caused them to ‘divide and conquer’ the baby department store.

He shot off a quick text to his husband: _Dean likes cowboys_

Before resuming his task of getting a primary set of crib sheets and replacements for when they did laundry.

He had just reached the end of the aisle when he received a text back from Sam: _Should I get some cowboy stuff?_

Cas replied: _Yeah. Idk what they have… farm stuff? Do they have like a toy barnyard or something?_

 _I could always do western movies_?

Cas scratched his bottom lip with his thumb as he considered that. If Dean like cowboys and grew up in motels – like they knew he had – then he had probably grown up watching old TV shows and movies. It was likely that Dean had seen a lot of the old Western cowboy movies that had been made. Sure, not many of them were the type of movies that parents would show to kids of Dean’s development, but if they made the little boy more comfortable then who did it hurt?

_Probably don’t have those here, we’ll get some on our way home_

Satisfied that they were making choices that Dean would be happy with Cas turned them out of the boring linens section and headed toward where he and Sam were supposed to meet up; the toy aisles!

Dean hadn’t been doing much before they reached this section, but the first aisle that they turned into Dean made to reach outside of the cart and drag a toy near him.

Cas snorted at what Dean was reaching for, and old tub of army men. They were the generic type. Small, chewable pieces that Cas knew could be easily lodged down a throat. He brushed Dean’s hands away from the plastic tub and instead handed him the age appropriate version, larger, chunkier army men that he couldn’t chew on and injure himself with.

Did Cas know that Dean wasn’t going to chew on the toys? Yes. But he also knew that with his and Sam’s continued babying of him that he would eventually fall into the appropriately aged mindset. It would be better for them to prepare for the day when Dean acted like the child he was, as opposed to baby-proofing their house and lives some point down the line. 

Fortunately, for what it was worth Dean didn’t kick up a fuss at being handed the more kid-like toy, and only sat content staring at the simple green plastic tub.

Cas pushed his cart to the end of the aisle when he bumped into Sam.

“Oh hey,” Cas observed as his large statured husband appeared at the end of the aisle. “How did book shopping go?”

Sam frowned and considered his cart. 

Ever the book lover Sam had appointed himself to finding all of the parenting books that he could find that he felt would be useful to them. He had half a dozen books in the seat of his own cart, and the rest was filled with the more boring types of things as well. He had a tub insert for when they bathed Dean wedged between bottles of baby soaps, lotions and Tylenol. There was a collection of pacifiers and bottles. Decorated plates and rubber utensils. Bibs and burp cloths. A number of soft socks along with a sturdy pair of Velcro shoes and some house slippers. An ear thermometer, baby monitors and even a jumper that Sam had somehow managed to pile on top.

“Cas, my cart is full and I still don’t think I’ve got everything.”

Cas rolled his eyes and reached out to rub his husband’s shoulder. “You get any first time parenting books?”

“Of course!” Sam said defensively. “I have first time parents,” he began flipping through the stack, “what to do to prepare a house for a baby, how to raise boys. A book for parents who adopt --,”

“And the one for first time parents,” Cas inquired, “what does it say about buying stuff for your baby?”

Sam frowned and grabbed the book in question before flipping to a relevant page. Cas watched as Sam’s eyes rapidly scanned the first few pages, before his shoulders sagged with an explosive sigh.

“Don’t overwhelm yourself.”

“And yet you are,” Cas half admonished. He turned Sam towards him and stepped closer to the taller man, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down the curve of Sam’s shoulders. “It’s okay Sam, we’re just getting the basics right now. If we get home and find that Dean needs something else we can always come back. It’s not like parenting is graded,” Cas pecked him on the lips. 

“Think of it as a pass fail. As long as he,” Cas indicated Dean with his head, “is happy then we’re golden.”

Sam smiled and nodded his head, “you’re right.”

Cas answered back with his own smile and kissed Sam again, “damn right I am,” he remarked before turning to his own cart.

Before Cas was able to resume pushing his cart through the aisles Sam swooped in and placed his lips against Dean’s delectable pale throat, blowing a resounding raspberry onto the exposed skin.

The action startled Dean, who jolted at the sensation and then turned his pouty face in Sam’s direction. The glower lost some of its effect because of his pacifier but Cas wasn’t about to tell the little boy that his intimidating stare was no more frightening than the stuffed animals Cas was eyeing in the aisle one over. 

Sam pulled Dean from his seat on the cart – newly acquired crib-sheets falling into Dean’s vacant spot – and held him to his chest pressing loud smoochy kisses to the boy’s golden crown.

“Enough of this boring stuff, Daddy wants to buy toys,” Sam insisted as he carried Dean off into the next aisle, abandoning Cas with both carts. 

Cas merely rolled his eyes and followed after his husband and son into the next aisle; pushing one cart while pulling the other.

Sam and Cas took turns holding Dean and managing the carts while picking out toys that they thought their little boy would like. Dean wasn’t showing any particular interest in things and so they bought whatever looked fun, and whatever – according to Cas – looked the easiest to clean up. 

In addition to the army men they had some stacking blocks, the barnyard Cas had mentioned to Sam, a collection of squishy balls of different colors and textures that were plush and soft, and a racecar track that was probably about Dean’s height when he stood up, along with half a dozen cars.

They were currently standing in front of a giant wall of stuffed animals, trying to find a toy that captured Dean’s eye. 

Sam was standing behind them, leaning over the handles of Cas’s cart while studying the selection in front of him while Cas swayed in place. He was holding Dean to his chest, hands laced under the boys rump as he leaned back in the crook of his left arm. It allowed Cas to hold his little boy while keeping Dean forward-facing to study the array of stuffed toys along with his Papa.

“So whatcha think sweetheart? See a friend you wanna take home?”

This was the one point during the shopping trip where Cas wanted Dean’s input the most. Kids _needed_ to have a stuffed animal growing up and Cas wanted whatever toy it is they brought home to be one that Dean especially loved.

As much as he hated to admit it most kids latched onto their stuffed animals as safety and comfort devices, and Dean needed all the comfort he could get. Cas would readily buy a dozen options for the boy to choose from, but felt that the stuffed animal that Dean chose would go over much better.

Cas took a few steps to the side so the two of them could study a new section of wall when a store associate stepped up to them.

“Well aren’t you just cute!” the teenage girl exclaimed upon seeing Dean in his arms.

Cas turned toward the girl and smiled pleasantly at her as she openly stared at Dean. “What’s your name Mister?”

“This is Dean,” Cas said jiggling the little boy in his arms.

“Well hello Dean, is there anything you and your Dad need help with today?” she said bending over to shake one of Dean’s feet. 

Cas smiled again, about to let the girl know that they were just looking for a stuffed toy that Dean liked when the girl stood up straight and brought the contents of her arms back into view. She was holding a few things – likely bringing items back to the shelves from the registers – but the one thing that caught Cas’s – and especially Dean’s – attention was a soft turtle plushie that she had tucked up under one arm.

Immediately Dean’s arm came swinging out, pointing directly at the toy and he grunted from behind his pacifier while kicking his legs.

It seemed Dean had made his decision.

“Are you returning that turtle?” Cas asked pointing with a nod of his head.

“I am,” she replied back, “but if Dean here would rather have it --,” she said holding the toy out to the boy.

Dean met the teenage girl half-way with both of his arms outstretched – and Cas actually had to hold him back to make sure he didn’t slide out of his grasp – and snuggled his face into the turtle once he had him in his arms.

Cas and the store associate made simultaneous “aww” sounds at the sight.

“Thank you so much,” Cas said, truly grateful that the girl stopped by.

“No problem,” she answered reaching out to ruffle Dean’s hair. “If you need any more help just let me know!”

Cas said his thanks again and turned back around to find Sam approaching him.

“He find one?”

“He found one.”

Sam reached forward to take both Dean and the turtle. “Mmm, he’s very soft,” Sam murmured pressing his face into the toy much like Dean had done.

“We all good?” Cas asked not wanting to stick around anymore now that he felt they had accomplished all they had set out to do.

“We’re _all gooood_ ,” Sam sing-songed, nosing at Dean’s hair – earning him a blush from the younger male. 

“Good,” he said pushing a cart into Sam’s hip. “Put him in the cart and let’s check out.”

Sam smiled and puckered his lips to receive a kiss from him before putting Dean in the only free seat available between the two carts and heading toward the front of the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this second chapter! I've received a lot of hits for this story over the past two days and I would love to hear from you. I'm especially looking for suggestions for chapters or scenes that you would like to see, as I only have a general plot planned for this story. I've made a promise for lots of schmoop and sweetness but I would still appreciate any motivation or inspiration you could toss my way!
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	3. Kangaroo Kare

Sam was sitting with his back to the couch, parenting book opened on his lap. He was worrying over his thumbnail with his teeth as he considered the pages in front of him. Cas was lying down on the couch, one hand placed on Dean’s back as he was asleep on the other man’s chest, while the other played with Sam’s hair. Scritching at his scalp as he gave Sam an impromptu head massage.

The TV was on mute as the remainder of a movie played on the screen. 

Dean had fallen asleep less than a quarter of the way through.

They’d been home for at least two hours; the first thing Cas and Sam had done upon arriving home was to work on setting up Dean’s new playpen in their living room. There was an open spot for it under the TV, which is where Cas had dumped the cardboard box. 

While Cas had taken his time reading the helpless instruction manual that seemed to only be in Russian or French, Sam took Dean into the kitchen and set him in the rubber chair on the counter where he cracked open a jar of pureed peaches to feed him.

Other than clutching the plush turtle that they had picked up, the little boy hadn’t done anything that outwardly showed his thoughts or emotions. 

Sam was able to feed Dean half the jar, and all the while Dean held his turtle to him and ran his palm over the soft material.

He had a hard time not grinning like a dork at watching Dean’s puffy cheeks and pink lips go through the motions of eating spoonfuls of peaches while refusing to actually look up at Sam’s face. Instead, Dean was content moving his turtle about and studying his new toy.

Dean was so taken away with his new friend that Cas was able to bicker and curse his way through putting together the playpen before Dean had finished eating.

Cas came in and laughed at seeing Dean slowly eating his way through the jar. He swooped down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and promptly licked his lips as he stood up.

“Peaches?”

“Mhmm.”

Cas sat down at the stool next to Sam’s to watch Dean eat his way through two more spoons.

“Can I see your turtle sweetheart?” Cas inquired.

Dean’s mossy green eyes looked up at the man and then back down to his toy before holding out the turtle – which was roughly the same size as him. Cas ‘hmmed’ and tweaked Dean’s nose as he turned the toy over and yanked the plastic price tag out of the material before handing the toy back to Dean.

It had been an ordeal to scan the turtle at checkout, as Dean didn’t want to let go of the toy long enough for the cashier to scan it and hand it back. Sam came up with a solution by plucking Dean out of his seat and holding him above the scanner until it beeped before putting him back.

If Dean had noticed he ignored it.

So it was nice to see that Dean trusted Cas enough to hold his toy for a short period of time.

“You wanna finish feeding him?” Sam asked, knowing that Cas enjoyed the connection he felt when doing so.

Cas nodded and pulled the little rubber chair over to him before taking the jar and spoon from Sam. The sudden change in location brought Dean’s attention back up to the two men. 

Sam made “om nom nom nom,” noises to accompany Dean’s chewing, and added exaggerated facial movements to go along with it. The action had made Dean’s lips quirk in amusement, though Sam knew it was likely involuntary. As it hadn’t been nearly long enough for Dean to learn contentment at the situation. 

Sam leaned forward on his fist and continued to watch his husband feed their son.

“What do you say after this you lay down in your playpen for a nap, hmm?”

Dean snapped his eyes over to him and pouted before blindly accepting a spoon of peaches from Cas.

“Does that not sound like fun?”

Dean shook his head.

“Okay then, how. About. Weee,” Sam pressed his lips together in thought, “watch a movie? We can put in one of those DVD’s Papa picked up; does that sound better?”

Dean nodded much more enthusiastically – no doubt he had heard Sam’s earlier comment in the car towards Cas about picking out Westerns that were even _moderately_ appropriate for children.

“Sounds like a plan, Dean.”

It took only a few more minutes for Dean to finish the jar with the promise of a movie for motivation. When the spoon scraped bottom Sam stood up and wiped a burp cloth over Dean’s dirty cheeks before walking into the living room to pull out their selection of Western movies they had picked up.

Sam had the five movies they had bought out on the coffee table by the time Cas came in holding Dean. He sat down on the couch, with Dean at the end of his knees. Just as Sam was about to read off the movie titles to Dean he reached out to grab at the end of one of the DVD cases. 

Sam read the movie title upside down. It wasn’t a Western, but an old Indiana Jones movie Cas had picked up on a whim.

“Oo, good choice sweetie.”

Dean smiled at Sam’s reaction as he put in the movie while Cas laid down on the couch and started snuggling Dean.

That had been forty-five minutes ago.

Only twenty minutes into the movie Sam had felt a tug on his pant leg from where he was reclined back with his feet on the coffee table; he looked over to see Cas’s face smiling at him upside down with a sleeping baby on his chest. 

Sam’s face automatically turned into a display of raw affection toward the small boy. He was still in the blue long-sleeved onesie, though they had removed the ‘jeans’ he had been wearing after arriving back home, as Dean hadn’t seemed too thrilled with the article of clothing. And the sight of Dean in his blue onesie with mussed up hair, lying on top of his Papa on the couch, with Cas rubbing one large hand over their little boy’s back while the other cups his padded rump, was making Sam’s face ache with how wide he was grinning.

Sam would have been an idiot to not take half a dozen pictures.

Cas had been excited at the prospect of Dean falling asleep on him at first and so had Sam, but eventually what they learned was that babies were glorified paper weights. 

Cas was effectively stuck on the couch until Dean woke up from his nap – which Sam would feel okay with ending after at least another hour. Which meant that until then Sam was playing gopher for his husband, which was why he was sitting with his back to the couch. Cas was thirsty and after Sam had retrieved him a glass of water – with a straw – Cas had complained about not being able to reach the coffee table from his current location. So Sam was there to hand Cas’s drink back and forth, his payment was the head massage.

“Thought you were going to go in to work after lunch,” Cas purred as he worked to not wake Dean.

Sam smiled at his book, “texted Andrea when we were out shopping; couldn’t bring myself to come in today.”

Cas made a small noise in place of a laugh. “Think you’re gonna be able to make it at work tomorrow?”

Sam sighed, “only if you send me plenty of pictures.”

Cas tugged at the hairs on the back of Sam’s head, “I’ll send you pictures of everything.”

Sam leaned his head back to receive a light kiss before turning his attention back to the book.

“S’you learn anything yet?”

Sam shrugged, “I’ve found some pointers.”

“Such as?”

“This book has a list of things for parents to do to create stronger bonds between them and their kids,” he closed the book with a finger in his spot and held it up for Cas to see the title, “it caters towards parents who have adopted,” he said before opening it back up. 

“What kind of things?”

“Well,” Sam pressed his lips together, “they all seem based on touch, especially for babies Dean’s age --,” Sam started before Cas cut him off. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how old do you suppose Dean is physically?”

Sam scratched his chin, “the hospital said five to six months.”

“Are you sure? If he were that old shouldn’t he be in the stages of teething?”

Sam turned to face the couch a little better. “Some kids don’t cut their teeth until they’re almost a year Cas, Dean’s okay. Though with how drooly he is most of the time I wouldn’t be surprised if he started soon.”

“Drool? That’s the indication for teething?”

“It’s a sign,” Sam said reaching for a book he had already littered with reference post-it notes. He cracked the spine and flipped to the page in question. “Warning signs for teething start with drooling, then gum swelling. Then he’s going to be a little irritable and develop a lack of appetite, and he’s gonna chew on things like he’s trying to break through them.”

“God that sounds awful,” Cas admitted.

“It does, but we have time babe, don’t worry.”

“Sorry for interrupting, what were the touch techniques the book suggested?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam pulled the adoptive parent book back onto his lap. “The first thing they suggest for babies like Dean is skin on skin contact. They suggest that women breastfeed topless with their babies naked so that they can get as much contact as possible.”

“Well what about men?” Cas asked, not needing to point out that that particular technique was useless.

“They suggest a baby wrap…thing,” Sam frowned as he reread the section. “It’s this thing Dads can wear underneath of like button up shirts that will hold their babies in place over their chests. We could wear one of those or if we don’t want to buy anything we can always just cuddle with him without a shirt on.”

Sam heard Cas hmm in thought behind him.

“What else?”

“There’s also something that suggests looking them in the eye and talking to them or singing to them. One of them actually suggest making up special songs to sing to them for certain activities such as bath time or nap time to help establish a routine.”

“Really? That’s a suggestion?”

“Yeah,” Sam turned back around having heard the excitement in Cas’s voice. “You like that one?”

“Hell yeah!” Cas whispered, though his exuberance was mild due to his whispering, “I’m going to start working on songs for Dean right now.”

Sam snorted and then froze as Dean wiggled on top of Cas’s chest. When the boy settled back down both he and Cas visibly relaxed before sharing a knowing smile with each other.

Parenting was turning out to be quite the adventure. 

******

So Dean was going to be stuck as an infant for the next year. 

He wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to take that information. It was obvious that there was a precise _lack_ of things he could do to change his situation, as he couldn’t get around well, and his speech was nonexistent. 

The only thing he had available to him at this point was how he behaved. 

Part of him said that he was given the year, so why shouldn’t he sit back, relax and enjoy the vacation that was forced upon him? But then the more rational part of his brain questioned whether or not relaxing into the life would cause him to remain cursed after a year, and that just wasn’t an option.

Dean was a hunter. 

He was the son of a hunter, raised a hunter, trained a hunter. It was who he was, and if he didn’t go out and save the innocent people then who would? 

Sure, the hunting community had grown exponentially since he had been a kid, but they still needed every person they could get to fight the good fight. Dean couldn’t allow himself to become soft.

The other day…oh, well…the other day with the turtle was different. 

Standing in front of that wall of stuffed animals with Cas had been one of the most uncomfortable situations in Dean’s life. He knew that should he point at any of those beady-eyed stuffed animals that Cas and Sam would have bought the toy, or toys, no questions asked. 

Which was beyond odd. 

Growing up under his father’s thumb hadn’t been a childhood of luxury. He was given guns and bullets for milestones and special occasions. His one ‘comfort toy’ was his handgun with a pearl handle inlay. Not a stuffed turtle.

But when that store associate’s arm came into view, well shit, Dean couldn’t look away.

He had grown up through the popularity of the ninja turtles, and often times morning cartoons were his only friends, as he was an only child whose Dad would only remember to enroll him in school if Dean pestered him enough or if they were staying in the area long enough to warrant it.

Dean had grown attached to the red turtle, Raphael. He was the tough, ass-kicking good guy whose personality seemed as hard as his shell, but who had a soft side to him.

All those mornings growing up Dean hadn’t realized that the empty feeling inside of him was caused by a lack of something soft to clutch to.

He hadn’t realized that until he had first put his hands on that soft, damnable turtle. He had grown up missing touch, missing comfort. And tough Dean didn’t want to admit it he was getting it here. 

He sighed and stretched his hand upward – fist coming in contact with – Dean tilted his head up, yep, Cas’s nipple. 

Currently he was butt naked against Cas’s bare chest. He really didn’t know why the man had wrestled him into the bizarre cloth contraption that held him to the older man’s chest, but there wasn’t much Dean could do about it.

A few days ago Sam had come home from work with the patterned thing that he assumed was a scarf, and the two men had spent the next hour in the kitchen – Dean watching on from the highchair that had finally arrived – as they stripped off Sam’s shirt and worked to get the thing situation on the taller man’s frame. Dean’s turtle had been the test subject.

Once they had the stuffed animal in there properly Sam had strutted about the kitchen – topless with a turtle strapped to his chest. Dean couldn’t help the gurgled chortle that had escaped between the fingers he had been drooling over.

Unfortunately, by making nose Dean had brought the two men’s attention, and before he knew it his onesie was being snapped off and he was being shoved into the spot his turtle had previously occupied. 

Confused and naked Dean didn’t know what to do with being stuffed against Sam’s chest, and he didn’t have much room to move other than tilting his head up on occasion or stretching his arms upwards. Other than that he was stuck, face plastered to whatever chest he was snuggled against.

Since then after feeding Dean breakfast in the mornings Cas had stripped Dean down to nothing – not even a diaper – and wedged him against his chest as the older man did dishes and methodically cleaned the house. 

Dean stayed in the device for an hour before Cas would put Dean in the playpen with his turtle, and then he’d go back to cleaning. 

The naked chest to chest thing was, strange, to say the least. Dean didn’t know what to expect when he was first strapped to Sam’s chest. It wasn’t like it served a great purpose. After all he hadn’t left the house since the shopping trip, so it wasn’t like Dean _had_ to be carried around all the time. No, it was like the only function the wrap served was to purposefully put Dean and the older men in skin to skin contact.

And while that prospect had been uncomfortable at first Dean had to admit that he had grown used to it after a few days; and if _forced_ to admit it, then the experience was actually kind of nice. For one, in the strap Dean wasn’t just lying around collecting dust like a knick knack, he was up and around, and involved in whatever activity it was Cas or Sam was doing. Also, Dean had found that his new size meant he was more susceptible to temperature changes. More often than not he was freezing half the day, and while the slippers and fleece blankets helped he honestly felt at his warmest when snuggled chest to chest with the large, warm men. 

The biggest perk that Dean had found was quite unexpected. Being forced against the chest in this way made Dean turn his head to either side, which mean that one of his ears was always pressed against Cas’s or Sam’s chest; this allowed him to always hear their heartbeats and the breaths that they took. It was strange how soothing Dean found those sounds to be. 

Dean still wasn’t entirely comfortable with his new situation, and each day when he woke up, still stuck in this nightmare, he was a little on edge. And that feeling of panic went away the moment Cas strapped him in for his morning chest to chest snuggle. 

All of that didn’t mean that he didn’t think the two men were odd for having a naked baby strapped to their chest. Because they were. And it was pretty weird. 

But it was equally nice.

Dean could tell they were reaching the end of their hour as Cas hummed, his arms jiggling as he scrubbed at the dishes left over from the night before. Cas had already cleaned up from breakfast, prepped dinner, and swept the kitchen floor with Dean strapped to him that morning, so it was likely that when Cas was finished with the dishes Dean would be relegated to the playpen where he would be allowed free roam of his army men until Cas came to insist he take a nap.

Sure enough after Cas rinsed off the last plate hands were reaching into the scarf thing to pull Dean out. Cas held Dean under his arm pits and hovered him in front of his face. “Hey cutie! You ready to try something fun?” Cas asked with excited blue eyes. 

Dean didn’t respond, he had found that most of the time when the two men asked him questions they were typically rhetorical and didn’t require him to answer, so instead of bobbing his head Dean sucked on his fingers – he couldn’t stop fucking drooling! – and watched the man’s movements with curious eyes. 

Cas tucked him up in his arm and turned around to the kitchen island where a curved rubber object and several bottles stood by. He grabbed the rubber thing and turned around, placing it in the sink, before retrieving the bottles and placing those next to the sink. He then turned the faucet on and ran the water over the back of his wrist.

“I think it’s about time that you had a bath. What do you think sweetheart? Do you think you stink?”

Dean scoffed at that, though it sounded much more like he was just blowing spit bubbles with the amount of saliva he had on his fingers. 

Cas chuckled at the baby-like sounds he was making and held Dean up to his face.

Dean dropped his hand from his mouth to watch as the man pressed his nose into the curve of his belly button and gave a big sniff. 

“Pew! You stink!” Cas remarked, making a face before setting Dean down – bare assed – on the kitchen counter. “You wanna play with some bath toys while I get the water ready?” he asked reaching back to the island and grabbing a plastic box to put next to Dean.

Cas flipped the lid to display an array of plastic rubber bath toys. The man grabbed the topmost toy, a pirate ship with a black flag, and squeezed it making a high pitched squeaky sound. 

“This one is a little squirt gun,” Cas explained pointing to the front of the boat. “It has a little nozzle here, so when you squeeze it under water it fills up, and then when you can squirt people with it!” 

He handed the toy over and Dean considered it for a moment before sticking the mast in his mouth.

His gums were achy and the only way he could get rid of the feeling was by chewing on things.

Cas frowned at Dean’s actions, though didn’t put a stop to it, and instead pulled out his cell phone to start typing on it. 

Dean had been aware of the lack of teeth for quite some time. He had actually noticed it back when he thought he was in the hospital for injuries as opposed to being in there waiting on an adoption. At first he had thought that only a few teeth were _missing_ , and had chalked it up to messing up on the hunt. 

It wasn’t until that first conscious bottle feeding with Sam that the mouth of gums had filtered through his mind, though at the time he had bigger issues at hand. 

Now that things had settled a bit – and now that his gums were becoming a more frequent issue – he was constantly thinking about them. If Dean really was growing up from infancy then he knew that he was going to be teething at some point during the next year. And he wasn’t really looking forward to it.

“Okay,” Cas said interrupting his thoughts. 

The older man was stashing his phone in his back pocket once again and turning his attention to the faucet. Seemingly pleased with the temperature Cas plugged up the sink and started adding a little bit of bath soap to the water along with a splashes of sweet smelling oils. 

While the sink filled Cas leaned on his elbows to talk to Dean.

“Don’t make fun of Papa,” he started off with, “but he did a little research on babies who have trouble falling asleep. And all of the experts say that baths with lavender oil should knock you guys right out. So we’re going to give it a try and see if it helps you with your nap time. Okay?”

Dean kept chewing on his pirate ship, but kept his eyes locked with Cas’s to let the older man know he was listening.

Satisfied that he had been heard Cas stood up and pulled Dean into his arms, hovering him over the water in the sink before reclining him back on the rubber pad that he had put in the sink.

Dean swirled his toes in the warm water as he absently mouthed at his toy. The water felt nice, like, really nice. It was plenty warm and smelled just _heavenly_ thanks to the lavender oil Cas had added to it. He was already pretty relaxed in his spot in the sink, but when Cas took a cup and poured warm soapy water over his belly Dean _melted_.

He threw his arms out to the side and dropped his toy. Head falling back and legs kicking open. Dean sucked on his bottom lip and hummed as Cas poured cup after cup of warm water over Dean’s belly and chest.

His eyes were shut as he basked in the warmth and comfort that was a lavender infused bath in a kitchen sink, but opened one a crack when he heard a camera shutter. 

Cas was holding his phone and snapping pictures of Dean as he was blessed out in contentment during his bath. Cas had taken frequent pictures of him over the days, usually sending them to Sam – though from the odd comment here and there Dean knew a few of them had ended up on Facebook. 

Other than scowling or rolling his eyes in displeasure whenever the man did so Dean couldn’t really object to having his picture taken, but he could honestly say that this was the first time Dean was too relaxed to really spare any brain matter worrying about where the pictures would end up. 

Cas chuckled to himself before setting the phone out of reach on the counter before coming back to Dean. 

If you would have asked Dean a week ago if he would have been okay with a strange man rubbing him down with a wash cloth in a kitchen sink he would have asked how many beers you’d had. Now though, well, now Dean was just hoping that he could stay awake long enough to full enjoy his bath.

The warm water felt _sooo good_ against Dean’s skin, and the soft cloth that Cas rubbed over him was so very, very soothing. It made his arms tingle when Cas soaped him up. But Dean’s favorite part was the cup. 

_Oh._

When Cas tipped that warm cup of water over Dean’s belly, _shit_ , he hadn’t been a virgin before the curse and he damn well knew what sex felt like. Hell, Dean had probably orgasmed at least once a day since learning what masturbation was when he was twelve. So seven years, times once a day, times 365 days a year? 

Yeah. Dean was well acquainted with orgasms. 

But that fucking warm cup of water… yeah. Dean had found his new favorite thing.

He had even surprised himself by his own cooing at how great he felt.

At one point while his eyes were closed – which, was probably more or less the duration of the whole bath itself – he was positive that Cas had actually turned his camera phone on camcorder. As Cas was narrating his actions while “giving Deanie his first bath.”

But Dean didn’t care, he didn’t even kick up a fuss at anything that was happening until he heard the sound of water being drained and suddenly he was sopping wet and cold.

Dean was shivery as he forced his eyes open and looked up at the man who was wrapping him in a large plush towel, tousling his wet hair – though he didn’t even remember getting his hair washed – and rubbing at his back and belly to get him dry. 

God, Dean could almost see how pathetically pliant he would have looked if he could have seen himself lying in Cas’s arms like that, but it was pretty easy to ignore the fleeting embarrassment in the warm afterglow of the best bathing experience of Dean’s life.

Soon Dean was dry and changed into a diaper and a soft fleece one piece pajama suit with what looked like a dog motif on the front. He didn’t care. Cas’s damn lavender oils were working and he was almost asleep as the man carried him over to the playpen where his turtle waited.

Cas knelt down and placed Dean at the center of the playpen, his head cradled on the pillow Cas always left in there. 

Dean allowed Cas to pop a pacifier into his mouth and was conscious enough to feel an affection pat to his padded bottom before he effortlessly fell asleep. 

*****

Cas smiled as he looked down at Dean sleeping peacefully in the playpen. The last few days had been pretty touch and go as far as nap time was concerned. Usually getting Dean to fall asleep was pretty easy if they were snuggled on the couch together and Dean fell asleep watching a movie. The only downside to that was that while Dean seemed capable of sleeping in just about any position – though usually tummy down bottom up seemed to be his favorite – he couldn’t sleep through being moved or any disruptive noises. 

So typically when he had sat Dean down in his playpen for a nap the boy had only stared at him with his mossy green eyes. Cas had sat in the room to read one of Sam’s parenting books the first two days and watched as for the next two hours Dean refused to sleep. The boy only ever laid on the pillow, yawning wider and wider until tears appeared at the corners of his eyes.

It was apparent that Dean was refusing to nap, even though he was very clearly sleepy whenever he had set him down, and so he had looked up tips to make restless babies fall asleep. 

Most of the resources he had consulted suggested warm baths with some kind of scented oil, so he figured that he’d give it a try.

Cas knelt by the playpen to snap a couple extra pictures to send to Sam, and even recorded a short video featuring their little boy sucking on his pacifier in his sleep. The pictures he’d send to Sam now, the video’s he’s show him in person so he could see Sam’s reaction for himself.

He was having a bit of trouble getting the right angle for Sam to get the full effect of Dean sleeping on the pillow however, as the playpen walls kept him from getting the phone low enough to get Dean’s profile. 

So Cas laid down on his stomach and unhooked the gate at the front of the pen – the walls were moveable, so the pen can either be set up in a circle, like how they currently had it, or the ends could be pressed up to a wall or corner, depending on how parents wanted it set up. Once he had the gate unhooked he quietly shifted the sections apart on the carpet and held his phone to the ground, at this level he was better able to get the pictures and videos he wanted.

After getting the images he wanted – and sending a select few to his husband – Cas crossed his arms and rested his chin a top of them. 

Dean looked so content sleeping there, though his balled up fists still remained. 

Cas often times wished he could talk to Dean, to get to know what was going on inside the little boy’s head, but he supposed he was on par with other parents who couldn’t talk to their kids until they had reached the appropriate level of development.

He also figured that if Dean could talk that it wouldn’t be the cute baby-talk that he and Sam received whenever the little boy attempted to say something to them, and would have more likely been quite foul language.

Cas resettled more comfortably against one of his arms and reached out with the other to run a finger over Dean’s little nose.

While he didn’t have the ability to communicate with the little boy he was able to observe several things. For one, Dean always seemed content with being held, particularly when he was held in the skin on skin device. Often the little guy’s eyes were closed and he made soft cooing sounds as Cas went about his routine – he doubted Dean even knew he was making the noises. 

Dean also was quite the little spitfire whenever it came to feeding him dinner.

He’d eat down nearly every fruit that they put in front of him, regardless of whether it was chopped or pureed. Eggs and toast seemed to be his favorite foods and he had particularly enjoyed the mashed potatoes Cas had made for him the other night. 

But he was pretty adamant about refusing his vegetables.

Dean had taken to fiddling with his turtle during dinner time – which meant that the plush toy already suffered a number of stains from that week alone – and so it meant Dean would open his mouth, chew, swallow, and open his mouth again all without looking at whoever was holding the spoon or what was on it. And a few nights ago it hadn’t been any different. So Cas figured he’d get Dean to eat some pureed peas that they had bought.

He popped the rubber spoon in Dean’s mouth and as soon as those plump pink lips closed Dean’s face broke out into a scowl. He turned betrayed green eyes on Cas as if the man had fed him spoiled milk, and proceeded to push the green mush out of his mouth, letting it slide down his chin and mess up his bib. 

Dean then puckered his lips, and refused to open them again for Cas until he had promised to go back to the applesauce he had been feeding him. 

It hadn’t been much, but he had kicked his legs quite a bit and shook his head quite vigorously when Cas tried to prompt him into opening his mouth again. 

It could have been that Dean was just adamantly refusing to eat vegetables, but Sam and Cas looked at is as something different. It had been the actions any five month old would have taken in making sure his Papa didn’t feed him something yucky.

So though it meant that they had to struggle to get Dean to eat his vegetables it had kind of felt nice to know that Dean felt comfortable enough with them to push back, because if he were scared he would be more likely to just sit around and be completely pliant one hundred percent of the time. 

They still had a long way to go, and a lot of milestones to reach and obstacles to overcome before they got there, but Cas could see that they were taking small steps in the right direction. 

*****

Sam came home to find that things weren’t how he expected them to be. For the last few days he had come home to Cas making dinner in the kitchen while Dean sat in his highchair sucking on his fingers or feeding himself the chunks of banana disguised as mush on the highchair tray. 

It was Friday, he told himself as he kicked his shoes into the hall closet, and usually on Friday’s he and Cas ordered out. So it was possible that Cas had already ordered pizza, or their usual Chinese order and had already picked it up, but stepping into the kitchen revealed a distinct lack of pizza boxes or Chinese take out boxes.

“Cas?” he called out into the house, suddenly unsure of what was going on.

He padded into the living room on his socked feet and openly cooed at the sight he found.

Dean was lying atop the pillow they left in his playpen for nap time, drool discoloring the soft material, while Cas was flat on the floor, head pointing at Dean. Both males were fast asleep.

Sam wasn’t sure how long they had been asleep, but with how late it was he wanted to get Dean up so that they could eat dinner and hopefully be able to put their little boy down for the night without much fuss. 

Of course waking Dean could wait until after he had snapped an appropriate number of pictures. 

Once that was done – and pictures forwarded to a select number of members from Sam’s contact list – Sam stepped over the low wall of Dean’s playpen and scooped up the slumbering infant.

Dean grunted in his sleep as Sam positioned him against his chest, and Sam ran his hand up and down the boy’s back as he carried him upstairs to their bedroom. By the time Sam sat down at their bed sleepy green eyes were peeking up at him and he was smiling back down at Dean.

“Hey there sweetheart. Seems you and Papa slept for quite a long time hmm?” Sam remarked tracing the sleep lines pressed into Dean’s cheek from where he was laying on his pillow. He then ruffled the small males hair – which released a strong whiff of lavender.

Dean reached up with a small fist to rub at his eyes as Sam buried his nose in Dean’s soft blonde hair. The boy smelled positively _wonderful_ after the bath that Cas had given him during the day, and while Sam was a little upset he couldn’t have been there for Dean’s first bath he was more than enjoying the way that it made Dean smell.

The little boy was squirming in his arms, a fact which Sam struggled to ignore. The biggest hardship they had faced with Dean over the days was the fact that Dean outright refused to pee in his diaper unless forced. 

Cas had explained to Sam how he had done it that first time, and Sam understood the need to make Dean go as opposed to holding it in. Sam had forced Dean into doing it once, and had absolutely hated the experience. Making Dean go to the bathroom always left the little guy so visibly upset, and always made whoever was forcing him feel like the biggest dick in the world. Though Cas had guaranteed Sam it never got as bad as it had that first time. 

Sam took a deep breath to calm himself. 

It was late, and he didn’t want to sit around and wait for Cas to make dinner. He figured going out to eat would be easiest at this point, but he didn’t want Dean suffering the whole time they were out due to a full bladder. 

The struggle to get Dean to use his diaper would end tonight though, as Sam had stopped by a pharmacy on the way home and picked up some baby safe laxatives to make sure that Dean was staying regular whether he wanted to or not. 

A small scoop of powder in his night-time bottles should do the trick.

Sam stood up and paced around the room, getting Dean into position on his chest before giving Dean’s pelvis a light squeeze.

Dean was obviously familiar with the routine, and he was smart enough to know that it would only ever end one way, but that didn’t keep Dean from whining and trying to struggle out of Sam’s arms. 

Instead of giving in to the urge to stop Sam only thumbed away the moisture that spilled from his baby’s eyes and continued to apply light pressure to Dean’s pelvis. 

He had to remind himself that he wasn’t hurting Dean, in fact, he was doing the opposite. It was just that Dean didn’t like using his diaper, which was silly. He was their baby boy, of course he was supposed to use his diaper. 

He hummed gently until he felt Dean’s struggles die down, and then he felt between his legs to feel the tell-tale squishy material. 

Sam wasn’t blind to the pout on Dean’s face as he laid him down at the edge of their bed to pull out the diapering supplies. So as he tugged at the snaps of Dean’s onesie he bent over to kiss at Dean’s nose and forehead intermittently. Praising him on “being such a good boy for Daddy,” and how “Daddy is so proud of you.”

Though Sam knew Dean wanted to keep the pout in place there was a little spark behind the sad green eyes at Sam’s praise.

The two of them got through the diaper change fairly simply after that, and then it was just the simple matter of finding something to dress Dean in before they headed out for dinner.

Sam had Dean in one arm and had just started considering the pile of freshly laundered clothes Cas had stacked for Dean on top of their dresser when he heard footsteps approaching.

Cas’s own shirt was sleep ruffled from sleeping on the living room floor and he was running his hands through his hair, trying to tame it down. The other man stood beside Sam as he continued to peruse the clothing options before him.

“You change him?” Cas asked through a yawn.

Sam pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his husbands mouth, “Yep. Gonna get him changed so we can go out to dinner tonight.”

“Out?” Cas repeated, “I was going to make dinner.”

Sam scoffed, “it’s late, we’re tired. Let’s just go out,” Sam reasoned.

Cas shrugged and moved to his own dresser to pull on a fresh shirt while Sam pulled out a pair of pants and a clean white onesie and jacket for Dean.

Sam tossed his selections on the bed and began dressing Dean who had visibly perked up at the promise of going out to eat. Apparently this was going to be a treat for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having too much fun writing this! I have LOVED the suggestions that I've received from you guys so far. So please, if you have any more suggestions send them in! Even if you don't have any suggestions let me know if you're liking the story so far!


	4. Daddy and Me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mkay, once again I wrote this quickly -- so I apologize for any and all errors. 
> 
> You guys have been !amazing! at giving me suggestions and I plan on getting to all of them as I'm able to work them in. For now we have the dinner scene, the outcome of Sam giving Dean laxatives -- (aww) -- and Cas decides to take Dean to a 'Daddy and Me!" class!
> 
> (As always, leave suggestions and praise, as it makes me all smiley when I read your comments and makes me want to write more to hear from you lovelies!)

Sam and Cas found out very quickly that taking Dean out to eat was a rather simple affair. Dean seemed to have a love for all foods and at the promise of ordering dessert if he behaved through the meal they found that Dean was perfectly behaved. No food throwing or spoon grabbing to distract them from a lovely meal. 

They had gone out to their favorite Chinese restaurant, and ordered their usual fare; General Tso’s chicken and fried rice for Sam, and white rice with tangerine chicken for Cas. The two of them had considered the menu for a short while before deciding that Dean would be okay with small bites of Cas’s chicken and rice between the two of them. They figured the amount of solid food that he got from dinner would be more than enough once mixed with his bottle before bed to fill the little boy up.

They took turns feeding Dean tiny bits of chicken that he could easily swallow without having to worry about chewing, and small scoops of rice that he ate off the tip of their forks.

This was the first time they had fed Dean food without the turtle-shaped distraction and so Cas and Sam were able to actually see their little boy’s eyes while they ate.

Sam held out his fork that had a small bit of his fried rice on the tip and fed it to Dean. The little boy gummed at the food in his mouth before swallowing and holding his hands up to Sam. Dean was sitting in one of those generic wooden highchairs so it was easy for Sam to pluck the little guy out of his chair. Sam maneuvered Dean onto his lap and arranged it so that the little boy was facing the table. 

Just as he was about to offer Dean some more rice the boy reached out with his hand and smashed it into the spicy sauce that covered his General Tso’s chicken and began sucking at his fingers.

“Oh, oh Dean! No!” Sam said grabbing the little boy’s wrist and pulling it from his mouth while grabbing a napkin off of the table. “That’s spicy sweetheart, don’t want you getting a tummy-ache.”

Sam began wiping at Dean’s hand when Cas stepped in. “Hon, why don’t you let him try it? If Dean likes it then it’s safe enough to let him eat.”

Sam pulled his lips down in thought, “are you sure?”

Cas shrugged, “yeah. The only reason people shouldn’t feed spices to babies is because they aren’t able to say whether or not they don’t like it. So if he likes it, let him eat.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Read some of your parenting books.”

“Ah,” Sam said turning his attention back to the little boy in his lap. “You want to try some of Daddy’s chicken?”

Dean nodded and reached for one of the larger chunks, “here sweetie, let me help.”

He took the piece that Dean had grabbed and used his fork to cut it into smaller pieces that would be easier for Dean to swallow. Holding his breath he fed Dean a piece of chicken from his fingers. 

Dean hummed his delight as he gummed at the food before popping his mouth open expecting more.

Sam looked up and shared a grin with Cas before feeding Dean a few more bites.

At the end of the meal Sam and Cas had agreed that Dean had behaved very well – no food throwing, spitting or fussing – so they decided that Dean had earned himself dessert.

They knew that filling him up on sweets wasn’t the best idea, so they ordered a chocolate brownie with extra whipped cream on top. The brownie was mostly for Sam and Cas, which left the fluffy white whipped cream for Dean. 

Sam took his time eating bites of the chocolately brownie while Dean smacked his lips over the foamy whipped cream that Sam fed him.

Dean wasn’t too preoccupied with getting all of the whipped cream in his mouth which meant Sam was frequently wiping down the little boy’s face. 

It had been a lovely dinner, but had become even better watching Dean smile and coo when Sam gave in and finally spooned a bit of brownie into the boy’s mouth. Cas’s responding laugh was enough to even make Dean smile. 

Pretty soon though the dessert was finished – Dean’s face having been wiped off for the hundredth time—and they were settling in the car to head home.

Then it was time to change Dean into his pajama’s, feed him his bed time bottle – with a scoop of the baby-safe laxative – and then it was off to bed for the three of them.

Sam had just finished swaddling Dean and placed him in the bassinette when he realized their latest parenting mistake.

He had just settled Dean’s golden crown onto the structure when the little boy let out quite the exaggerated sigh. Usually around bedtime they were able to get Dean sleepy enough so that he’d fall asleep to their gentle murmurings and coos, but after having slept most of the day on an extended nap it seemed like Dean wasn’t inclined to go down peacefully for his daddies. 

“Hey Cas?” Sam called out to his husband who was stripping down to his boxers behind him.

“Hmm?” 

“How long exactly did Dean sleep today?”

Cas came over to see what Sam was talking about, and upon spotting Dean with wide awake eyes he too frowned. “Probably longer than I should have,” he scratched his chin. “I think I got that parenting advice backwards.”

“Yeah?”

Cas turned to get one of Sam’s parenting books off of the nightstand. He and Cas usually tried to read a few chapters each night before bed to better prepare themselves for the next day. He began flipping through the pages as he walked back to Sam. “Mmm, yep,” Cas’s shoulders sagged, “I switched it. Lavender baths are supposed to be before bed time. Lavender _massages_ are for before naptime,” he said chastising himself.

With that Cas closed the book and tossed it behind him on their bed.

“Well, it’s worth a shot,” Sam replied scooping Dean out of his swaddle. “Go get the lavender and lotion. You got to bathe our baby, so now it’s my turn to massage him.”

Cas rolled his eyes but complied with Sam’s request.

Sam reclined against the headboard with Dean curled up on his chest. Once he was settled he crossed his legs and placed Dean on the bed in front of him. Dean looked rather curious to this new development as Sam began tugging at the snaps on his one piece pajamas.

“Papa let you sleep too long today,” Sam said casually to the baby boy in front of him. “So Daddy is going to give you a nice, long massage to make you go all goo like so you can relax and fall asleep. Sound good baby boy?”

Dean kicked his legs – hitting Sam’s in the process – and began babbling at him in a tone he and Cas thought of as his sarcastic baby-talk.

It was strange how hearing Dean’s snippets of speech over the past few days made them veritable experts in understanding Dean’s little coos and mumbles.

Sarcasm had such a unique quality to it – just like how adults speak when they’re being sarcastic – it isn’t anything like anger, it just sounds like a normal voice with that little curl at the end which comes with any lipped remark. Sam figured that as long as the massage only garnered sarcasm – no anger – then he would count it as a win. 

Cas returned shortly with the bottles, and after handing them over to Sam he perched himself on the edge of the bed to watch quietly.

Sam started with Dean’s chest. After warming the lotions and oils in his hand he started rubbing up and down Dean’s sternum, caressing the boy’s tiny ribcage with his strong fingers. When he began soothing his large palms over Dean’s sides the little boy gave a series of tiny kicks, landing his heels over Sam’s crossed legs.

Cas chuckled at the sight.

Sam added a little more lotions before curling his large fingers around Dean’s shoulders, squeezing lightly as he pulled his hand down the tiny arm. He repeated this twice, earning him a satisfied eye flutter from Dean as he went. Then he rubbed his thumb over the small hands which always curled into tight fists whenever their little boy was asleep. The fingers felt so delicate in Sam’s enormous hands.

After repeating the same process on Dean’s legs and feet – admiring the size of his tiny feet in comparison to his thick thumb – he grabbed a throw pillow from behind him and flipped Dean onto his tummy on top of it.

In response to his new location Dean stuck his newly lotioned fingers into his mouth. Sam pulled the digits away and replaced them with the pacifier Cas had grabbed wordlessly.

As soon as Sam started on his back Dean was positively _purring_. The continuous hums that came forth made the two men smile; it was nice to know that they could make Dean feel so relaxed and comfortable.

Sam ran his hands up and down Dean’s sides again. Listening to the contented noises the little boy was making. 

While he and Cas were making steady progress in showing Dean affection they had yet to receive much feedback from the little boy in terms of genuine happiness or pleasure. Most of the time he had stoic, blank faces that wouldn’t change unless they gave him something special – like good food, a bath or an impromptu massage – but they hadn’t heard anything from him that suggested honest to goodness happiness and joy. 

Seeing Dean so relaxed from his hands Sam wanted to try something. He was too tired to put on his grumpy charade, and so Sam really hoped this would work.

He positioned his hands on Dean’s sides, just under his armpits, and he started tickling.

At first his only response was Dean’s previously loose muscles stiffening, but after only a mere second of rigidity Dean loosened back up and began squirming like any other baby would had their Daddy been tickling them. 

Sam was biting his lips, concentrating so hard on his little boy’s chubby, kicking legs that he almost didn’t hear it at first, the broken, aborted gurgles that escaped his drooly pink lips once he spit his pacifier out. Sam was persistent though and scooped Dean off of the pillow to settle him in his lap so that he could get at that round little belly. 

Unhidden by the pillow Dean’s face was on full display for both Cas and Sam to see the gummy grin that Sam’s actions were receiving. Sam continued tickling Dean’s belly and soon the little boy was giggling in earnest. He was wiggling around on Sam’s lap half-heartedly as he giggled and smacked his wet fingers against Sam’s chest. 

Not one to sit by and watch Cas laid forward on the bed and promptly grabbed one of Dean’s feet, mouthing at the boy’s pink little toes. Dean didn’t laugh at that he _screeched_. Apparently Dean had quite the ticklish little toes.

Cas kept playing with Dean’s feet while Sam held Dean steady in his lap. His husband continued to tickle and ‘bite’ at Dean’s feet while Dean kicked his little legs and giggled. Sam’s face started to ache from smiling so much.

Eventually Dean’s little legs kicks slowed down and Cas went to just pressing kisses into the soles of those tiny feet. 

Sam leaned over the little boy to get a better look at those green eyes, and Dean tilted his head up to look at him. Some of his hair fell into his face and Dean reached up to grab it, with his tight grip he tugged on the hair twice, as if it were his signal to Sam that he was ready to go to bed.

Sam complied.

Once Dean’s pacifier was replaced and their baby boy was re-swaddled Sam put him back in his bassinette and the trio was finally able to call it a night.

 

*****

Saturday morning marked an important day for Sam and his husband. 

It was the day that some of their larger orders would be delivered, Dean’s bedroom furniture; the crib, changing table and dresser that they had ordered, along with the stroller that Sam had picked out. It was exciting to the two men that Dean would finally have a permanent place in their home; a nursery that would become the bedroom that he grows up in as he develops further roots into their lives and hearts. 

The furniture had arrived just in time. Swaddling Dean to be sure that he didn’t accidentally crawl out of his bassinette had been difficult, as Dean had proved many times over that he liked to be out about and moving. So it was nice to know that that night they would be able to put their baby boy down without the lingering concern of him falling out of bed.

They woke up early that morning so that Sam could start pressing decals onto the wall of Dean’s room. Knowing his interest in cowboys and Indiana Jones they were going with a Wild West theme. Sam had ordered the decals online a few days prior which had arrived in the mail the night before.

Tumble weeds and cactuses were placed at the bottom of the wall while a larger decal – depicting a Saloon, Store Depot., Sheriff’s Office and Courthouse – went on the wall where Dean’s crib would go.

Sam looked at his work with a sense of pride. Sure, they were glorified stickers, but it was exciting to know that the decorations for the nursery were ones that Dean would actually like. 

He went downstairs to the living room where Cas was folding laundry – now that they were getting the crib he had gotten around to washing all of the new bed linens. Cas was seated on the couch, humming to himself as he folded, while Dean was happily jumping up and down in the jumper that they had remembered to set up before breakfast.

Dean was eagerly watching the show Cas had running in the background. It was a rerun of Cas’s favorite daytime TV drama. Dr. Sexy. Sam rolled his eyes as he sat next to his husband and began folding the towels heaped on the coffee table.

“Dr. Sexy? Really Cas?” Sam chastised motioning to Dean and the TV.

Cas chuckled. “Hey, I changed the channel when I realized what was on, but Dean started pouting and wouldn’t stop until I changed it back.”

“Really?” Sam asked incredulously, looking back at the five month old bouncing happily in his place. 

“Mhmm,” Cas said grabbing the remote, “watch.”

Cas flipped the TV over to the weather channel and almost immediately Dean’s head whirled around to shoot sad pouting eyes in Cas’s direction. Babbling at the man in a desperate tone from behind his pacifier.

Sam snorted and waved his hand, signaling Cas to change it back, lest their little boy get more upset.

Once the channel was back Dean hummed and gave an extra bounce to show his happiness.

“You’re outnumbered,” Cas whispered gravely into Sam’s ear.

Sam shook his head. He totally was.

The two of them were able to get through the laundry, and finished watching the show in relative silence – Sam couldn’t help but mutter out a few sarcastic remarks that earned him some shoulder swats from Cas – before the doorbell rang.

“That’ll be the delivery guys,” Sam grunted pushing himself off of the couch to answer.

Sam and Cas left Dean in his jumper to watch the next rerun of Dr. Sexy while they assisted and escorted the delivery men upstairs. 

Thirty minutes later Sam and Cas were tearing into cardboard boxes and disposing of plastic wrap upstairs in Dean’s nursery when they heard the most pathetic sound. A distressed high pitched _cry_ coming from downstairs in the family room.

Sam and Cas exchanged glances for only a second before they were a flurry of activity trying to get downstairs.

Cas reached Dean first and scooped him up and out of the jumper, immediately cradling the little boy to his chest and tucking the blonde head under his chin.

“What is _wrong_ sweetheart?” Cas queried as Sam ran his large hand over the boys back.

Dean tensed and screeched at the same time that Sam’s hand felt a weird gurgle come from Dean’s pelvic area – like a gas bubble or something.

“Oh,” Sam uttered, realization coursing through him. “It’s the laxatives.”

Sam and Cas exchanged worried glances over Dean’s head.

They knew that giving the laxatives to Dean would ensure that the little boy didn’t hurt himself holding it in, but they hadn’t expected quite this reaction to it. Dean was absolutely _screaming_ at his attempt to hold it in despite everything that was working against him. 

Sam hadn’t been around for Dean’s first breakdown at the prospect of peeing in his diaper, but he didn’t want Cas to feel like it was his fault for putting Dean through this latest stressful event when it had been Sam who bought the laxatives in the first place.

“Give ‘em here Cas,” Sam said remaining calm at the situation.

Cas – understanding what his husband wanted without even having to ask – kissed Dean lightly on the head before passing the precious bundle over. 

Sam cradled Dean close, allowing the little boy to burrow his head against Sam’s shirt as he continued to wail.

“Go get his stuff for a bath,” he said simply before sitting on the couch with Dean.

Sam reclined on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and snuggled the little guy close. Dean responded by fisting some of Sam’s shirt material. The crying and squirming continued, never lowering in volume or frequency, but Sam did his best to remain calm and whisper reassurances in the little boy’s ear.

“I know sweetie, I know. You’re trying so hard, and you’re being so good for Papa and Daddy. But it’s all okay. I promise. Daddy just wants you to let everything go and don’t worry, okay? Can you do that?”

Dean shook his head – inadvertently wiping his nose against Sam’s shirt in the process – and started to cough as the force of his cries began aggravating his throat.

Sam patted his back as he continued to cough and then he felt the exact thing they were waiting on. Dean tensed up and his cries cut off immediately. His little body trembled as he finally lost the battle against the laxatives Sam had fed him, and then began to silently cry with his face pressed to Sam’s chest.

He didn’t want to pull Dean away, wary of making Dean feel like he couldn’t have comfort if he so desperately sought it, and so he allowed Dean to hold onto him for a few minutes. He continued rubbing the boys back, cooing praise into his ear like he had done the night before when he had forced Dean to pee in his diaper.

After a short while he pried Dean’s little fingers from his shirt and gently laid him out on the changing pad Cas had put on the coffee table. He stripped him of his onesie before removing the soiled diaper. He kept up the reassuring touches and praise and once he had the mess removed he curled the naked little boy to his chest and carried him to the kitchen where Cas had the bath ready for him.

Together they washed him down. 

*****

The morning was much more subdued after that. Dean was miserable looking and – dare Samsay it – clingy. Once Dean was out of his bath he and Sam rubbed the little boy down and dressed him in a diaper and a shirt that barely reached the waist of his diaper. Dean had seemed unaware of the change of outfit, but Sam had reasoned that should the laxatives continue to work that Dean might need a few more changes before the day was over. And a t-shirt didn’t require re-snapping at the crotch. 

Sam had then gone to place Dean back in the jumper to allow the five month old to let him continue watching Dr. Sexy, but Dean had responded by whining and curling his legs up to keep Sam from putting him down. Sam tried once more to get those rolly polly legs into the jumper, but at Dean’s pitiful sounding cry snapped back up and clutched the boy to his chest as if someone were trying to steal him.

So instead they retreated up to the nursery as a family, and Dean sat in Sam’s lap, happily chewing on the pirate ship he favored during bath time, and watched as Sam supervised and Cas set up the crib.

Due to the fact that Dean was in attendance Cas couldn’t swear as much as he wanted to – and Sam _knew_ he wanted to. Why instructions on how to set things up were so hard he would never know.

After an hour Dean was lying sideways on Sam’s lap, head down as he tiredly looked over at Cas – who was arranging the crib mattress in the finished crib.

Cas just stood back to admire his work – fists on his hips – and he turned back to where Sam was rubbing his hand over Dean’s back.

“Finished!”

“And just in time too, we’re about to lose Dean,” he observed quietly.

They were cutting into Dean’s nap time, and with the morning they had it was surprising that Dean hadn’t dropped off already.

Sam stood up with the little boy pressed to his chest and placed kisses all along the sleepy boy’s crown. He passed Dean off to Cas who did the same before placing him tummy down in his crib. Dean whined a little bit at the loss of touch, but when Cas reached down to rub at his back he let out an explosive sigh. 

Sam slipped the remainder of the nursery furniture out of the room as quietly as he could. They’d finish setting the rest of the furniture in their bedroom while Dean slept.

He waited in the hallway for Cas to join him. Cas snuck out on his toes and closed the door behind him as softly as he could.

“Out like a light,” he said with a smile before helping Sam haul the boxes to their room.

*****

As far as Dean could figure Cas was taking him to some ‘Daddy and Me’ class that catered to men and their babies. From the snippets of conversation he heard from Sam and Cas the night before the class was meant as a way for men to bond with their babies, trade war stories and tips, and to get the kids involved with interacting with others.

To Dean it sounded like hell.

He’d been with the lunatic duo for a little over two weeks now and he hand kind of figured that his days would be spent crapping himself while watching day time television when he wasn’t bare ass naked against Cas’s chest. And he kind of assumed that that would be his life for the next year.

He hadn’t considered the possibility of _other_ people.

Going out to the restaurant had been the closest he’s got to other people since learning about his predicament, and while the one older lady sitting at the table adjacent to theirs had _gushed_ on just how _cute_ Dean was had been bearable – slightly – she hadn’t been actively trying to engage with him. That and he had been able to distract himself with the high end Chinese food he was eating. Usually whenever he and his Dad had gone out it had been at the cheapest, greasiest pit diner that they could afford. 

Quality Chinese had _never_ been on the menu.

So needless to say Dean wasn’t looking forward to this. But once “Papa” had him strapped into his car seat there was very little he could do on the subject.

He contented himself with the knowledge that he didn’t have to leave Cas if he didn’t want to. One look into his large green eyes when in puppy mode would ensure that the older man would be putty in his hands should the need arise.

Dean sighed around his pacifier and kicked out at the open air as he listened to Cas sing along with the radio. Neither men had particularly good taste in music. Cas listened to god-awful Country music and Sam always seemed to be changing the station to the worst modern emo crap Dean had ever heard.

One of these days Dean was going to have to figure out how to get his hands on the radio.

He felt the SUV come to a stop – though the engine stayed on long enough for Cas to finish the song – before Cas was out and unbuckling Dean.

Cas was humming quietly to himself as he situated Dean in one arm while the other carried around Dean’s puffy blue diaper bag.

He glanced around the parking lot they were in while the older man fiddled with his things. They were in the parking lot of a strip mall. Figures. And his eyes narrowed at the door they were likely to head in. ‘Daddy and Me’ was wedged between a Curves and a Subway and had a large cartoon caterpillar painted on the glass. Even sucking on a pacifier, wearing a diaper, and sporting a onesie that depicted a baseball on the front with elastic-waisted jeans Dean knew that the place was going to be obnoxious in its decorations.

Cas seemed oblivious to this fact though and walked straight inside without batting an eye.

And just as Dean expected it to be, the place was deplorable. 

Colorful rubber mats squeaked under foot. A large chunky looking slide was tucked in the corner where a few of the bigger kids were hauling themselves up the ladder and practically flinging themselves down the slide itself. Finger-painted artwork hung from the walls and posters depicting cartoon faces of animals with balloons above their heads that read “Let’s Have Fun!” or “Do you want to be friends?” filled the gaps. Toy chests and large square pillows were strewn about.

Cas hung the diaper bag up – along a row of similar looking bags – and brought Dean out into the open mat area to sit among the other Dads and kids.

Dean immediately turned his eyes on the group. 

There were seven other fathers there, all with kids ranging from Dean’s age to what looked to be a year and a half – if Dean were to venture a guess. Most of the other Dads were talking with each other, wrangling their kids into submission on their laps or dragging the ones who were crawling back toward them when they had gotten far enough away.

Dean seemed to be the only one not actively trying to explore and get away.

Cas started up a conversation with the man next to him who was holding onto one of the crawlers. It was a girl – he could tell from the large flower attached to her head – and she was a little bit bigger than Dean was. A fact which had Dean grimacing.

For some reason she seemed intent on crawling towards Cas – and Dean could tell she was eye-balling him, so he kicked his feet out trying to burrow further into the man’s chest – and after a few attempts at pulling the little girl back Cas and the other man watched as the girl eventually reached her goal and reached out to Dean’s face with sticky fingers. 

Dean immediately shut that idea down though, and reached out to swat away the dirty fingers. Could he be hypocritical and say that spit covered fingers were gross? No. Because lately if he didn’t have the pirate ship toy to chew on he used his own hand as a substitute. But there was a _vast_ difference between his own spit covered hands and someone else’s. 

Unfortunately for Dean that kind of action was frowned upon, and Cas grabbed his wrist and gave him a scolding, saying that “hitting isn’t nice.”

Dean was just upset that his own retort of “neither is putting your spit on someone’s face,” went without being understood.

The girl didn’t seem too upset with being swung at, and merely plopped her bottom to the ground and started sucking on the hand she had reached to Dean with.

“You got a teether too?” Cas asked the father.

“Yeah,” the other man answered, dragging the preoccupied little girl onto his lap. “She started cutting a tooth the other day, and we’re expecting it to make a full appearance some time soon.”

“How old is she?”

“Seven.”

“Hmm,” Cas pondered out loud, “you’re getting there pretty quick sweetheart.”

“How old is yours?” the other man asked.

“We’re pretty sure he’s five.”

“Pretty sure?” the guy parroted.

“Mhmm. My husband and I adopted him. Mom was a teenage mother they think, claimed to have had him in late January. So we’re taking their word on it, but I sometimes things he’s a little older than the hospital thinks he is.”

 _Hmm._ Dean thought listening to the man’s answer. _So that was the story they were going with. It would be interesting to know the full story – and more importantly how they had guessed Dean’s birthday…._

“He your first one?” The other man interrupted Dean’s thoughts, and he looked over to see him idly patting the little girls bottom to keep her attention.

“Yeah,” Cas said pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Well Hannah here,” he said with an extra affectionate pat, “Is our fourth.”

“Fourth!”

“Yep, and what I can tell you from my experience is that babies are always different when it comes to milestones. Hell,” he said with a chuckle. Numbers two and three were twins, and they never did anything at the same time!”

“You know, the --,” Cas began before getting cut off by an overly perky looking woman who stepped out into the middle of the circle of assembled Dads.

“Okay Daddies! Who’s ready for a little Daddy and Me time!”

Dean’s groan went unheard over the cheers that erupted from the group. 

“We’re going to start off our play-date today with some block building with our Daddies while taking turns and the hand painting station. Today we’re drawing _Dinosaurs!_ ” the woman exclaimed with a roar. 

“Then,” she said while clapping her hands, “we’re going to work on some Baby Yoga.”

Cas hummed curiously at that, and Dean knew that he was going to be subjected to that in the future.

*****

Dean’s ‘Daddy and Me’ play time was two hours of the worst torture disguised as play known to man. If Dean had had any salt on him he would have been dousing the female host repeatedly, as her obnoxiously chipper tone couldn’t possibly have been human. 

During block time Dean did his best to force the blocks into his mouth to gnaw at them. Cas had forgotten the damned pirate ship and home and Dean _needed_ something to chew on!

Cas kept pulling the blocks out of his mouth and tried to get Dean to stack them in towers. 

After a while it was Dean’s turn to paint. The goal was to paint dinosaurs – though most of the other kids just smeared paint all over the paper and the large white shirts their fathers tugged over their heads – but the Dads were the one to paint anything that even remotely resembled a dinosaur.

Wanting to outshine the other kids Dean did his best to hold his fingers steady when painting. It was difficult though, as he was working with baby arms that weren’t used to muscle control. It was more frustrating than anything, but once Dean really started concentrating he was able to get something in a very, _very_ , vague dinosaur shape.

“Look at you Deanie!” Cas cheered holding up Dean’s painting to better admire.

The other dads at the table were also praising Dean’s painting abilities, though none of them made Dean feel as good as hearing Cas’s murmured, “so proud of you sweetie,” in his ear.

After that it was back to block building. 

Cas gave up on trying to get Dean to build anything however, and made his own entertainment by stacking blocks and methodically knocking them over while conversing with the other dads. 

The man wasn’t attempting to put an end to Dean’s block chewing though, and for Dean that was good enough.

Soon though, the perky woman was back, clearing away the block and saying that all of the paintings would be dry enough to take home after their -- _shudders_ – baby yoga session.

Ugh.

Cas seemed totally into the weird things they were trying to get the kids to do, and basically the whole thing turned into a game of ‘Which Dad can make their kid hold still the longest?’ And after seeing Cas’s envious pout at the other dads with their kids Dean figured he would stop fighting the man and give it a try.

The first couple moves were basically stretches. Cas held him by his wrists and pulled him up, getting Dean to stand on his feet like he had the first time Cas had walked him through the house. That one was okay. The one that gave Dean the hardest time was one called ‘Downward Dog’, which had Dean on his toes and bent over while trying to hold himself up on his hands with his body at a right angle. 

Dean had pouted when he realized some of the older kids were getting it. Even Hannah – who only seemed capable enough to produce drool – was holding herself up better than Dean was. And that was _with_ Cas’s help.

His stupid little stubby arms weren’t able to hold his body weight like that yet. 

But luck was on Dean’s side, as after only a few botched attempts at the latest pose the perky woman was back at the center of the circle, announcing the end of playtime.

Dean was thrilled. He was honestly looking forward to getting home to his crib where he knew Cas would give him a rub down with those awesome smelling lotions, and then he’d get a bottle before his nap.

And his eagerness to get home and experience all of that was a little worrisome.

He couldn’t dwell on that too much though. Not when Cas and _Steve_ were exchanging numbers to set him and Hannah up on a play date.

Life as an infant couldn’t get any worse it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say this. I have received *numerous* suggestions on making a sick!Dean chapter and it's what I'm gearing up for next. Some of you have admitted to being cruel people in your wantings of sick and hurt Dean portrayals. So, I will ask you guys this: I am prepared to make Dean as sick as possible. But that depends on what you guys want. Are you looking for head colds? or hospital visits? Because I'm prepared to go either way.
> 
> You guys have been begging for sickness! So sickness you are going to get!


	5. Dean get's pnemonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets SICK!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. You guys wanted a sick Dean, so you're getting a sick Dean!
> 
> I decided to go the route I did because, well, mainly because I can, but also for reasons that you'll see in the next chapter. I know that I've been making some pretty substantial updates and that they've been appearing very quickly and I can attribute that to two things. One: you guys are amazing with all of the love you are sending my way. I feel like I *Have* to keep updating! And two: my days have been pretty free lately.
> 
> This probably won't continue once school starts back up for me, as I've got a lot on my plate this semester between a full course load, a work study, an after-school program and an apprenticeship(ish) so enjoy these frequent updates while they last!
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and about the chapter. My medical knowledge comes from TV and Google searches, so if I get something majorly wrong I apologize! Medicine is Not my day job!

Dean was wrong. _Soooo wrong!_

Life as an infant had the ability to become so bad so quickly that he might just throw up at how bad things could get, in fact, throwing up sounded wonderful. And that’s promptly what he did in his crib, all over the warm cowboy bedding he had come to tolerate.

A strange gurgle-burp escaped him before he was reacquainted with the chicken and peas he’d had for dinner. After a few stuttered breaths – getting through the momentary panic of _sick_ , and _bad_ he felt – came the irrational guilt at getting sick in the first place.

Growing up with John meant that there was never a free moment. When one wasn’t actively hunting you were researching. If you weren’t researching you were driving to a hunt. If you weren’t driving you were practicing. When you weren’t practicing you were studying. And when you weren’t doing that then you’d best be taking a shit. 

John didn’t have time for lying around. And damned if he was going to raise a boy who learned to coddle a cold. 

Dean specifically remembered one time when he was nine, the last elementary school he had been at had a nasty virus going around that knocked half the school out of commission for at least a week once they caught it. 

The virus caused a nasty sinus infection to take place that could spread to the lungs if gone untreated. 

And when Dean came down with it, it had gone completely untreated. There wasn’t even any Tylenol to speak of when Dean had noticed the burning sensation start up in his nose; let alone when there was a nasty hacking cough coming from his lungs. 

By the time John had decided to acknowledge that _maybe_ Dean was sick he had suffered through the worst of it. And by then his father had said he was no better than a spoiled civvie if he was going to “snivel over a simple head cold like that.”

So when Dean woke up in his crib to find himself spewing white sticky baby vomit all over everything, he was horrified.

These guys had been surprising to put up with most of Dean’s shit. _Literally._ They had cleaned up his shit. But that was a basic bodily function even John Winchester couldn’t condition out of him. Throwing up was preventable. Throwing up meant you were _weak_ , that for whatever reason you had _allowed_ yourself to become sick. 

While Cas and Sam were prepared to put up with a lot they weren’t going to put up with a sick baby. Why would they?

Dean kept back his cries and his squeaky moans by gumming at his fist. If he kept quiet long enough through the night then most of his vomit would soak into the mattress; that was a good start. The cowboy sheets were white mostly anyways, just with a pattern of cowboy boots and sheriff badges, so a majority of his white throw-up would go undetected. 

The chunkier stuff was the problem.

Despite his useless arms and legs and totally sore tummy Dean pulled his way forward, getting within reaching distance of the mess, then – using the coordination he had learned over the days of being allowed to feed himself banana pieces – he started plucking out the solids and putting them carefully on the blanket Sam had thrown over him when the older man had tucked him into bed.

It was getting difficult to move his arms though. And the longer he worked the shakier his arm got, hell, the shakier his _whole body_ got. 

Eventually Dean’s trembling got bad enough for him to recognize just how _freezing_ he was getting. But _there were still sooo many chunks left!_

He couldn’t let the two older men into his room now! Not if he expected any kindness from them! As long as he made them realize how hard he tried to clean up after himself, as long as they _knew_ he was trying his best, maybe they would still care about him?

*****

Cas was excited. He and Dean were going back to ‘Daddy and Me!’ again today, as the class met three times a week; Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He had been texting Steve to set up a play date with Dean and Hannah that weekend. 

It had been his and Sam’s hope that getting the chance to spend time with an actual baby would help show Dean how he was supposed to behave and act, as most of the time they had a baby boy who was kind of clueless with what he was supposed to do. The only activity he actually liked was watching TV, but even that he did like an adult – minus the fact that he usually did so from inside his jumper – no distraction was enough to bring him from whatever was on the screen. 

Dean had seemed kind of wiped the night before, not having much of an appetite for the chicken and peas he had made for dinner, and spitting out the nipple of his bed time bottle only half-way through.

Sam had speculated that Dean was reaching the point where his teething would begin, though what convinced Cas was his texting conversation with Steve which confirmed that _yes_ babies did lose their appetite when they were teething.

So Cas just brushed it off knowing that Dean would be okay.

He was planning on letting Dean sleep in that morning. The last ‘Daddy and Me’ class had left the little guy drained, and he had fallen asleep in his car seat before Cas even had the chance to back the car out of its parking spot. 

But he did want to check to see if Dean had peed overnight. 

He had to give Sam credit, ever since that first horrendous run in with Dean experiencing laxatives the little boy had learned to not hold anything back, and was messing up his diaper like a champ. Cas opened the door to Dean’s nursery and walked in on flat feet. 

Oddly enough, he and Sam learned that the best way to sneak up on Dean was to avoid sneaking up on him entirely.

It seemed that he was prone to waking up to people who acted like they shouldn’t be there, but when they walked into the room with familiarity, well, he stayed asleep.

Cas took one step into the room and froze. Something was off. Call it Daddy intuition or something, but he knew that this morning was hugely different from other mornings. 

He walked up to Dean’s crib with sharp eyes, trying to spot what was amiss. But it was nothing. 

Cas was prepared to chalk his freak out up to being an overprotective father when Dean’s tiny little form shook so _violently_.

Startled he reached into the crib to scoop the infant up when his hands encountered sticky sheets and a wet baby. Dean’s eyes were just fluttering open when Cas turned on the light to the room.

He looked at Dean first. The poor little boy’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying – though they had surprisingly not heard a damn thing through the monitors – a white substance was caked over his mouth where the tears and mucus hadn’t washed it away. His hair was tamped down to his forehead from sweat and his diaper seemed to be filled from both ends. 

Uncaring of what the crib looked like Cas began stripping the boy down so he could get him onto the changing table. He was tugging at the straps of Dean’s diaper when the little guy whimpered as his body convulsed again – Cas paused to press a hand over the boys forehead, he was _hot!_

Cas swore, trying to remember where that thermometer Sam had picked up was at as he pulled the front of the diaper down. And shit! If things couldn’t get any worse. His boy had diarrhea. Cas cleaned the boy methodically, wiping him down and getting him clean enough before scooping him up and holding him close as he practically ran downstairs to the kitchen. Once there he put the rubber insert into the sink and laid Dean on top. He turned the faucet to the other half of the sink and started running the water as he moved about the house to frantically locate his cell phone and the baby thermometer that had been stashed with the rest of their medicinal supplies. 

By the time he returned Dean was crying – silently – again and a white sticky substance was running down his lips and chest.

Right. Vomit.

Cas quickly checked the temperature of the running water – it was a bit cooler than he would have liked it if he were giving Dean a bath, but to cool him down from a fever it was perfect – and used the sprayer attachment to hose Dean down as he dialed the number for their physician to figure out what he should do. 

The helpful receptionist on the other end asked if Cas had taken Dean’s temperature yet, he fumbled with the ear thermometer saying he was just getting to that. Somehow he was able to juggle the phone, the thermometer and keep the cool water on Dean as he took the little boy’s temperature.

“102.6,” Cas gasped into the phone once the thermometer beeped.

It was the practiced ‘Don’t freak out the parent’ voice that answered Cas back that had him panicking more than anything.

“One oh two point six? He’s under six months old?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Mr. Wesson, I’m going to need you to remain calm okay. Can you do that?”

“I --.”

“Mr. Wesson, get Dean into his car seat and get him to pediatrics here as soon as you _safely_ can, do you understand?” the voice on the other end of the phone sounded so grave. 

“Ye-yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay, I’ll let the doctors know you’re arriving, Dean is going to be okay Mr. Wesson, trust me.”

With that Cas hung up and looked down to the scared green eyes peering up at him. He had to be calm for Dean. He had to be calm for his son.

After taking a deep breath he turned the water off and left Dean in the sink. He ran into the living room and grabbed the diaper bag that had been left on the side table – and after a moment’s hesitation the turtle that had been left on the couch – before running back to the kitchen. 

If he hadn’t been so damn scared Cas actually would have been impressed with his ability to get Dean into a diaper and dressed so fast. He handed Dean the turtle as he shouldered the diaper bag – but those trembly little arms didn’t seem to posses the strength to hold onto his beloved friend – Cas felt his breath catch at the dejected look on his sons face as Dean cried, staring longingly at the stuffed turtle.

Biting his lip to keep his own tears at bay he scooped up both boy and turtle and hustled out to the SUV.

Barely three minutes after he had ended the phone call Cas and Dean were on the road, making the fifteen minute trip to the hospital in what probably wouldn’t have been considered the ‘safest way possible’. 

Eight minutes after pulling out of his driveway Cas was unbuckling the entire car seat and stuffing the turtle into the free space of the diaper bag before rushing through the doors of the pediatrics wing. Once there he ran up to the front desk where a nurse was expecting him and he was able to follow behind the calm woman in her lavender colored scrubs to an exam room where they lifted Dean out of his car seat. 

Dean hadn’t stopped trembling and Cas could only imagine that it was a combination of fear and sickness at this point that had him so bad off. 

“Mr. Wesson, if you’ll just hold him,” the nurse instructed while putting on a pair of gloves and getting prepared to do a quick check-up on Dean.

His and Sam’s little boy held perfectly still for the woman to do her tests. He didn’t whine when she prodded at him or felt his throat. Didn’t pull away when she took his temperature herself – frowning at the numbers she saw – and didn’t try to squirm away when they tugged off his onesie for her to listen to his lungs.

Her eyebrows pulled together in a worried fashion when doing this last examination. “He been coughing?” 

“No, not at --,” and then he was interrupted, by a wet, ominous baby cough. 

*****

After that everything was a bit of a blur for Cas. One moment he remembered sitting in the waiting room holding Dean in his lap as if the strength of his own arms could keep his baby boy safe, and the next he was sitting in a waiting room – arms empty – as the staff set Dean up in a special room.

He was flipping his phone over his hands, he had yet to call Sam who had left for work not ten minutes before this whole adventure had started. Cas couldn’t imagine telling any of this to Sam, as if the other man would blame him. 

But Sam was his other half, his better half, and he couldn’t help but think about how much easier this all would be if he had Sam sitting next to him. It would be easier to deal with Dean having – 

“Cas?” 

He looked up to see the first nurse he had encountered since arriving at the hospital.

“Cindy,” he greeted her as she sat next to him. Sitting up in his chair and wiping at his eyes. “How’s --.”

“Dean’s doing great. He’s on a round of antibiotics and he’s in an incubator to help him breath. I can take you in to see him now if you’d like?” She said lying a comforting hand on Cas’s shoulder. 

He scrubbed at his face and looked down at his phone.

“Haven’t called Sam yet?”

Cas snorted. “How am I supposed to tell him that our son got infected with the pneumococcal virus and has developed pneumonia?” he croaked out. Tears spilled down his face and he let them. “I’m supposed to keep him healthy, and look where that got us!” he said waving to the empty waiting room around him.

“If you want,” Cindy said talking very calmly and slowly, “you can call Sam and hand the phone off to me, that way I can answer any of his questions right away.”

Cas nodded his head a few times and sniffed through his stuffy nose, “you got a --,” Cindy handed over a tissue, “thanks.”

He cleared his nose as best as he could before calling Sam’s office. Unfortunately the building was set up so you couldn’t call the partner’s offices’ directly. You had to call the secretary and be connected. 

Andrea – Sam’s personal secretary – picked up on the other end. 

“Thank you for calling the offices of Smith and Wesson, how can I direct your call?”

“Andrea, it’s me,” Cas said slowly knowing the woman would recognize his voice.

“Oh Cas! I’ve loved all of those pictures Sam has showed me of De --.”

“Yeah, um can you patch me through to Sam? Please?”

Realizing that something was wrong Andrea connected Cas to Sam’s phone without further comment. 

“This is Sam Wesson,” was the greeting Cas got.

“Sam -- ,” was all Cas was able to get out before passing the phone over to Cindy.

“Hello? Mr. Wesson?”

Cas heard Sam’s confused tone on the other end as he buried his head in his hands.

“Hi, this is Cindy, I’m a nurse down at St. Bart’s hospital. I work in the pediatrics unit.”

And now he could hear Sam’s panicked voice. 

“Yes, I’m afraid this is about Dean. Your son has been admitted with a case of pneumonia.”

“WHAT!” 

Cas didn’t need to be holding the phone to hear that one.

“Mr. Wesson – Sam – I promise you that Dean is okay. Can you sit down for a few minutes so that I can explain everything to you?” Cindy paused before continuing. 

“Dean contracted the pneumococcal virus, you’ve heard of this right?” – “Yes, well when contracted the pneumococcal virus has a tendency to cause pneumonia in little babies if it isn’t caught right away. So we’ve got Dean on antibiotics to treat the pneumonia and he’s in an incubator to help him breath. Unfortunately we can’t treat the virus itself – being a virus – so we’re treating the symptoms as best we can. He’s on a drip to replace his fluids as he has a fever and is experiencing some diarrhea, but Dean is doing very well. We caught the pneumonia early on and after a few days you won’t even remember him being sick.”

Cas heard Sam talking on the other end of the line. 

“Yes, you are more than welcome to come and see him. He’s sleeping at the moment, but if you wash up and put some scrubs on you’d be able to go in and be with him.”

She smiled and nodded her head – though Sam couldn’t see it – “you’re very welcome Sam.”

Cindy turned and handed the phone back to Cas who was already feeling a little better knowing that Sam was finally in the loop.

“I’m sorry.”  
“How are you doing?”

The two men half-laughed before Sam started in first. “Don’t apologize Cas, babies get sick. I’m getting ready to head out to be with you, but how are you holding out?”

Cas cried silently as he took a deep breath. Cindy hadn’t left yet and was rubbing a hand over his back.

“I can’t believe he was sick all night and I didn’t notice it,” he whispered into the phone.

“Hey, you and I both sleep in the room with the monitor. It’s not your fault Cas. _Neither _of us heard Dean last night.” Cas heard Sam moving things around in the background.__

__“Yeah, but last night he --.”_ _

__“Last night _I_ was the one convinced that Dean was going through teething symptoms. _You_ were the one who believed something else was wrong.”_ _

__“Sam I --.”_ _

__“Cas! It’s okay. Dean’s going to be alright. You were a good Dad, you did everything right. No one can keep their kids from getting sick, the only thing we can do is try to prevent it and then react once they are sick. Now,” Sam said with that tone of authority in his voice that always made Cas calm down. “I’m going to have Andrea cancel my appointments today and I’m going to be at the hospital in half an hour. Think you can be okay until then?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Cas croaked out._ _

__“Have you seen Dean yet?”_ _

__“I-I can’t.” and he was happy that Sam knew what he meant by that. That the idea of walking in there by himself to see Dean all hooked up to stuff was unbearable if he was doing it alone._ _

__“It’s okay, hey, have you got Dean’s turtle?”_ _

__Cas snorted and pulled out the stuffed animal from where he had wedged it between his thigh and the armrest. “I’ve been carrying it around like he does.”_ _

__Sam laughed at that – which made Cas laugh – and though it felt wrong, it also was kind of nice to laugh at that moment._ _

__“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”_ _

__“I’ll be waiting for you.”_ _

__*****_ _

__The thing that Sam hated most about hospitals was the thing that everyone hated about hospitals. He could never figure out where he was or where he was supposed to be going._ _

__He’d already screwed up once when he parked in the general ER parking lot, and didn’t realize his mistake until he had approached the wide entry way doors._ _

__Then, he had ended up in the cardiac section where a kind nurse attempted to point him in the right direction. That had been ten minutes ago._ _

__Now he was walking down a hallway that led to a semi-private waiting room. Just as his frustration was about to hit its peak a man in the waiting room sat up and rubbed at his face. If Sam hadn’t recognized the man then the stuffed turtle he was clutching would have been a dead giveaway._ _

__“Cas!”_ _

__His husband turned to look at him and Sam saw the tension melt away from his shoulders as he rushed to greet Sam with a hug._ _

__“Took you longer than thirty minutes,” he muttered once Cas’s arms were securely around Sam’s neck._ _

__Sam shook his head and decided to not reply, instead asking “can we go see him?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Cas let go and returned to his seat to grab Dean’s forgotten diaper bag before holding onto Sam’s hand and hauling him away to a nurses station just around the corner._ _

__They had to leave the turtle and the diaper bag behind, as well as Sam’s suit jacket and their wedding rings. After scrubbing up and putting on gowns and masks that looked like the belonged in surgery they were led to the room where they were keeping Dean._ _

__They passed a few other parents, all of whom were wearing similar garb to he and Cas, but no one paid them much attention. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own precious little bundles._ _

__Dean was in the last incubator in his row, and the sight of his tiny form in a plastic box with god know what tubes connected to it and him without someone standing guard over the little angel was enough to make Sam fight back tears._ _

__He vaguely registered the nurse talking to them as he and Cas took their places next to their son._ _

__“As you can see he’s still sleeping. Little guy is pretty exhausted. He’s on an IV for fluids and antibiotics and he’s hooked up to a heart monitor,” the nurse gestured at a screen that neither Cas nor Sam looked at. “He’s in an incubator,” she said putting her hand on the plastic. “You can hold him if you’d like, but only for twenty minutes at a time and there should at least be forty-five minutes between holdings. When Dean wakes up we’d like to try to get him to eat a bottle if one of you would be interested in feeding him?”_ _

__“Can I hold him now?” Sam asked suddenly. All of everything that she said to him was inconsequential until he was able to hold that little weight in his arms. She could be telling him that the sky was raining gold bars and a fire-breathing dragon had taken up residence in City Hall and he wouldn’t give a damn._ _

__He hadn’t felt Dean’s soft skin since last night when he gave Dean his bed time bottle, and he _needed_ to hold his baby boy. He _needed_ to._ _

__The nurse only nodded, as if she understood Sam’s line of thinking, and opened up the top of the incubator. She instructed Sam to sit down in the rocking chair that they hadn’t previously noticed before as she got Dean ready._ _

__Sam sat in the chair with Cas standing next to him and his arms were jerky in their anticipation to hold Dean._ _

__The nurse had him gathered up, an assortment of tubes and wires leading out of his blankets, and turned around to deposit Dean in his arms. She warned him to be careful of the wires, but promised that as long as he didn’t pull anything out that Sam would be good to hold him for the next twenty minutes._ _

__Sam took every second to snuggle his boy and press kisses onto his head through the mask._ _

__Cas stood by, one arm draped over Sam’s shoulders with the other resting lightly on Dean’s form. After being together for so long Sam knew that Cas wasn’t jealous at Sam holding Dean first. Cas had been around to see Dean this morning, to hold him and comfort him when his husband had first realized that Dean was sick._ _

__Now it was Sam’s turn. Sure, Dean was sleeping, but it was important for Sam to be there. To hold Dean and show him love, even if he wasn’t awake to see it._ _

__After the twenty minutes were up the nurse came back around to supervise Sam putting Dean back in the ventilator before sealing it shut, starting the forty-five minute wait before Cas could hold Dean for his allotted twenty minutes._ _

__They were able to get through Sam and Cas both holding Dean before the little guy woke up._ _

__Someone had located an extra chair so that they could sit down together, and they were leaned forward – staring at the plastic box as if they were children looking at an aquarium – when the sound of Dean’s tiny little coughs shook the boy awake._ _

__Almost immediately Dean began shaking, not from fever chills, as the staff was adamant that they had lowered Dean’s fever to a more acceptable range, but more likely because he was scared._ _

__“Hey there sweetheart,” Sam cooed, getting the attention of those wide green eyes. “We were wondering when you were going to wake up.”_ _

__Cas got up from his side of the case and came over to Sam’s._ _

__“Hi sweetie,” was his greeting when those glassy green eyes looked at him._ _

__“There’s no need to be scared honey, you just weren’t feeling too well this morning, and Papa and Daddy are doing everything they can to make you feel better.”_ _

__Dean gave a great big wiggle and managed to work one of his arms free of the blanket and lift it toward them. The sad gleam in his eyes and actions only translating into one thing. He wanted to be held._ _

__It almost broke Sam’s heart when – the _first time_ Dean had consciously reached for them – he had to say no. _ _

__They still had another ten minutes before he could be pulled out of the ventilator._ _

__After Sam choppily explained “we can’t hold you yet sweetheart, but in ju-just a few minutes Papa and I will be able to give you a big hug.” He held his breath as Dean’s arm just _dropped_. His sad little green eyes watered over and in just a split second Dean started to _cry.__ _

__*****_ _

__What the hell did he mean Sam couldn’t hold him?_ _

__Dean felt like _shit!_ He had better have a good reason to not want to hold him. Dean started crying, uncaring that he was acting like the infant that he currently looked like. His stomach hurt, his skin felt itchy, his chest hurt, he didn’t like the wet gurgle he felt in his lungs when he breathed and he just wanted to be _held._ _ _

__He wanted one of the two crazy men to hold him. And they _wouldn’t.__ _

__Dean barely heard their panicked reassurances over the sound of his crying, but it didn’t matter. Dean _sucked_ as a baby and now he was just proving it to them. He had messed up his crib, and cost Cas his morning – as well as Sam’s afternoon at work, he assumed. He was _awful_ at this kid stuff and they were just getting rid of him. _ _

__That’s why they were in the hospital right? They were just getting everything squared away for the next family who wanted to try Dean out?_ _

__But Dean didn’t want that! He didn’t want to be shipped off to a new family! Not when the one that he was with was so caring for him!_ _

__He didn’t want to give up Sam or Cas. He didn’t want to give up Cas’s amazing cooking or the warm cuddles he got from Sam when the man came home from work. He absolutely loved sitting in his jumper watching Dr. Sexy with Cas while the man worked on laundry or cleaned the house. And the baths and massages the two men gave him were always so loving and wonderful._ _

__He couldn’t give that up._ _

__Or the turtle. The stupid turtle that he liked to feel because the material was so friggin soft and he just liked to bury his face in it on occasion and feel that stupid soft material rub against his nose._ _

__Or Cas and Sam’s infuriating habit of shoving him against their chests buck ass naked._ _

__All of it felt so wonderful. And caring. And loving._ _

__Dean felt so _loved_ when they did all of that. And now it was being taken away from him._ _

__The force of his cries had him coughing even harder, and the responding pain from his cough made his cries worse. He was stuck in a vicious cycle of pain and misery until two large distinguishable paws swept under him and soon he was pressed to a warm chest and a heartbeat he would recognize no matter what._ _

__It was Sam. Sam was holding him._ _

__Dean continued crying. Though they were more stuttered than anything._ _

__After a few minutes his choppy breathing became much calmer and he was down to just his sad, hurt sounding whimpers._ _

__Sam passed him off to Cas who was holding a bottle of milk. Dean whined and opened his mouth, demanding that the man feed him _right now_. _ _

__For whatever reason they hadn’t left him yet, so he was going to take whatever comforts from them he could get._ _

__Dean sucked his bottle down without preamble this time. He didn’t try to squirm away from it and didn’t kick up the fuss he usually did when being _bottle-fed_. He wanted to prove to these two men that he could be the baby that they wanted him to be. As long as they promised to keep loving him._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the remainder of Dean's hospital stay and where we're going to see two things happen. Dean's going to become much more attached to Sam and Cas -- he might start thinking of them as Sam and Daddy, I haven't decided yet -- and visitors are going to descend upon the Wesson household and Dean isn't going to be too happy with that.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed the update! 
> 
> (Because I sure made myself cry in places while writing it!)
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	6. Story of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should meet some of the suggestions that people have given me, I hope this meets your guys' expectations!
> 
> Someone also pointed out to me after that last chapter that antibiotics wouldn't be useful on Dean as his illness was caused by a virus. Sorry about that guys! I hope the mess-up didn't throw you off too much! 
> 
> As always I love to hear your suggestions and any comments you have about the story!

The nice thing about hospitals – Cas noticed – was that if your five month old was stuck in one then the nurses were usually around to give you a helping hand when it came to changing dirty diapers. 

Dean had been at the hospital for four days, and during that time period he had only changed Dean’s diaper once; most of the time when he got around to checking if Dean had wet himself a nurse was already coming over with the necessary supplies and changing Dean for him.

It was kind of nice. 

Though that was only if you asked _him._

Because whenever it was a nurse changing Dean the little boy had such a look of hurt and betrayal on his face. As if he didn’t want anyone touching Dean but him and Sam. Cas usually made up for it though by snuggling Dean afterward. 

After the first two days Dean no longer needed to be confined to his incubator, which meant that they were able to hold the little boy for longer than twenty minutes at a time. Dean had always latched onto them whenever one of their twenty minute snuggles came by, and it became emotionally draining on the two men to watch Dean cry quietly for forty-five minutes until the next time they were able to hold him again. 

It was as if Dean was terrified of being put down. Sam and Cas had exchanged a few whispered theories on why Dean seemed so upset; his being sick, being in a strange environment, not knowing what was going on.

But the biggest clue to Dean’s upset was when Sam had stepped out of the room to use the restroom. Dean had begun shrieking so loudly that Cas was forced to pull Dean out of the incubator before the forty-five minutes were up just to keep the other parents from looking at him like a horrible father.

Once Sam was cleaned up, gown on and back Dean practically fell out of Cas’s arms trying to get to the other man. Startled at the display Sam held the little boy close and Dean wormed his hand into Sam’s hair. 

They’d had to detangle the fingers from Sam’s hair when the nurse came around and chastised them for holding Dean outside of the allocated time. 

It seemed to them that Dean’s greatest fear was being left behind. 

With only a few hours left before visiting hours were over that first day it was difficult for Sam and Cas to convince the little boy that they weren’t leaving him, and that Cas would be back to sit with him in the morning. Those sad, tearful green eyes had looked at them as if he had already been abandoned, and it had utterly broke his and Sam’s hearts to hear the whimpered cry Dean gave as they said their goodbyes, as if he was already resigned to the fact that they were never coming back.

That night Sam and Cas couldn’t sleep. Sam curled himself around Cas, who clutched at Dean’s turtle, and both men cried until exhaustion dragged them to sleep. 

That next morning they were up earlier than usual, getting ready in a rush as Sam drove the two of them to the hospital. Once in the pediatrics wing – Sam would have gotten lost again if it hadn’t been for Cas – they were able to wash up and rush into the room to see Dean.

Their sad little boy had still been asleep, though the dried tear tracks on his cheeks were evident. They hadn’t been the only ones to cry themselves to sleep it seems. Though they wanted to let Dean sleep the need to hold him close and assure him that they were back was greater, and as Sam was going to be heading to work in half an hour he sat in the rocker as Cas pulled Dean out of his incubator. 

Just as Cas was placing Dean in Sam’s arms a nurse came by with a tray of bottles so that parents could feed breakfast to their babies. Cas grabbed a bottle for Dean and handed it off to Sam. 

Sam then ran a finger along Dean’s cheek, waking him up enough to slip a nipple into his mouth and to get the little guy sucking without him opening his eyes. 

About halfway through the bottle the flutter of eyelashes signaled that Dean was waking fully up. Sam and Cas remained quiet as their little boy opened his mossy green eyes, the look of sleep quickly making way for shock as he realized who was holding him.

“Told you we’d be back sweetheart,” Sam whispered pressing a kiss to the boy’s crown through his mask. 

After that it had been a little easier for Dean to trust that Sam and Cas weren’t about to leave him behind forever, but he still didn’t like it when someone that wasn’t one of his daddies touched him. He kicked up quite the fuss after Sam had left, and Dean’s aggravation only increased when a nurse came by to poke and prod at him to evaluate how his condition had changed.

Dean’s crying made some of the other babies start to cry, and Cas was starting to feel like a poor excuse for a father at being unable to console the weeping infant. After a while though the forty-five minutes were up and Cas was able to hold his baby again.

That night when Sam was able to leave work early to come and see Dean the little boy had been thrilled, and though it hadn’t been fun saying goodbye to him it was easier the second night.

After four days of being in the room with Dean Cas was ready to acknowledge the silver lining to Dean being so sick. That being the fact that Dean had finally warmed up to them. He wasn’t sure how he could tell, but whenever Dean reached out for them or cooed at their gentle murmurings he knew that it wasn’t Dean choosing the lesser of the two evils, it was Dean actively seeking comfort from someone that he cared about. 

At the moment Dean was struggling to stay awake in Cas’s arms. Tired, unfocused green eyes were staring up at him, and Cas was smiling at small boy’s struggle to keep his eyes open. 

“Go to sleep Deanie,” Cas murmured brushing a finger down his little nose. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

With that Dean gave a great big yawn, one that surprised Cas, and promptly fell asleep. 

Cas continued to hold Dean. Usually whenever Dean fell asleep on him and Sam they tried putting him into his playpen or in his crib so that he could keep sleeping, but it was different at the hospital. Not only did he not want Dean sleeping in the hospital-smelling incubator, but it was also very easy to hold the little boy in the rocking chair. They would have to get one for Dean’s nursery…

*****

The next morning Cas and Sam received some great news. Dean would be well enough to go home that night. The virus had passed and the pneumonia had cleared up. Dean’s fever was gone and his bowel movements were back to solids. As long as Sam and Cas continued feeding him the high electrolyte fluids that they’d been mixing his milk with and continue with a follow-up round of antibiotics Dean would perk back up. Just like everyone had said.

Their last day in the hospital went by quickly, and before Sam knew it he was carrying their little boy into their home just like that first time. The biggest difference being the fact that Dean was visibly happy at being _home_ this time around.

And Sam could tell that Dean thought of it as home, because Dean had perked up at the hospital when Sam had asked him if he was ready to finally “head home”. 

The first thing Sam did was to carry Dean up to his and Cas’s room and flop down on the bed with Dean on his chest. The little boy was awake, slightly. Cas told him on the drive home that Dean had stayed awake all through the day, even the nap time that Cas and Sam had him going on. So he knew that Dean was hanging on just barely. 

While Cas was downstairs heating up the take out they had ordered – yesterday – Sam cuddled Dean to his chest and pressed kisses to the soft hair that covered the little boy’s head. 

“You’re tired huh sweetheart?” Sam yawned at him. 

Truth be told he was kind of tired himself. 

Dean was gumming at his tie that he hadn’t taken off yet, so Sam pulled his phone out and texted Cas to bring up Dean’s pirate ship. The teething babe would claim anything and everything as fair game in the fight against sore gums, and the pirate ship that was supposed to be a toy for bath time was Dean’s favorite thing to chew on.

Sam sighed after putting his phone on the night stand, and looked at Dean on his chest. Dean’s eyes were drooping and forcing themselves open as he fought to stay awake.

“Hmm,” Sam thought, rubbing his hand up and down Dean’s back. “How about Daddy tells you a story while we wait for Papa to bring up dinner.”

Dean yawned, his little body shaking with the effort, making moisture escape from his eyes. Often whenever the little boy got sleepy his eyes watered and he and Cas would end up wiping the resulting tears off of his face. 

Sam thumbed at those tears now and considered what he could do to get Dean into the mood to fall asleep. 

“Have I ever told you the story of how your Papa and I met?” Sam questioned the little boy.

Dean tilted his head to show his curiosity and muttered a few things in the rarely heard anymore baby talk.

“Well,” Sam began, “we actually met ten years ago. My first semester at college. Back then my hair wasn’t quite so long, but Papa,” Sam chuckled, “your Papa had hair long enough to braid.”

Sam began methodically patting Dean’s diaper clad bottom as he looked up at the ceiling. 

“We were in a biology class together. And as fun as some of that stuff is…. your Daddy really doesn’t like biology. Well, we were doing a lab one day where he had to heat our beakers up, and we had to hold the beakers while wearing these flame retardant gloves. And well,” Sam was smirking. “I wasn’t paying attention –.”

“Because he was too busy staring at something other than the equipment he was holding,” Cas interrupted as he entered the room. He was carrying a large take out container of the shrimp fettuccini from the night before, and Dean’s bottle and the pirate ship in the other hand.

Sam shifted Dean around so he was cradled in one arm and moved to recline against the headboard and make room for Cas to join them on the bed.

Cas put the pirate ship on the night stand and handed the bottle over to Sam who began feeding Dean right away.

They were settled into their roles as Sam fed Dean and Cas scooped up fettuccini to feed to Sam before they continued with the story that Sam had started.

“Instead of focusing on his beaker like he should have been he was staring at me,” Cas said after he put his fork in Sam’s mouth. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Only cause you never paid attention to me,” Sam said as he swallowed the noodles. “I’d spent the whole semester trying to capture your Papa’s eye, but he never once acted like I existed.”

Cas chuckled as he swallowed his own bite. “Oh, I had noticed him.” Cas said leaning over to press a kiss to Dean’s forehead, making the little boy go cross eyed as he stared at him. “I was just trying to come up with something smart to say to your Daddy, he’s always been such a big nerd. But I didn’t really need to come up with an ice-breaker, not when Sam took the opportunity from me.”

“It was an accident,” Sam cooed to Dean.

“You started your shirt on fire!” Cas snorted.

“Yeah, accidentally!”

Cas scoffed and rolled his eyes, spearing a piece of shrimp and feeding it to him – probably to shut him up, Sam figured.

“Either way sweetheart. All the sudden in the middle of our biology class your Daddy was screaming that he was on fire. And while our professor was working to get the fire blanket out of the emergency kit I was rushing around the lab table and ripping his flaming shirt off and dragged him and me both into the emergency shower. Your Daddy was freaking out, and we were both soaking wet in the shower when he finally turned to look at me and – hand still burning – he says to me, ‘You have such pretty eyes’.”

They heard a snort and Sam looked down to see Dean smiling around the nipple of his bottle. “Oh, you think Daddy is funny?”

“I did,” Cas said slurping a noodle between his lips. “It’s why I asked you out on a date after the fire was out.”

Sam smiled and met his husband halfway for a kiss. 

“That night Papa took me out for pizza, and we were dating just a week later.”

“And two years after that I proposed to Daddy before he left me for Stanford,” Cas said grabbing the pirate ship off of the night stand having seen that Dean’s bottle was almost empty. 

Sam and Cas watched as Dean sucked quietly at his bottle until all of his milk was gone before Cas handed the little boy his beloved pirate ship. Dean shoved the mast into his mouth like always and he was awake for a few more minutes before he went lax and fell asleep. 

Cas chuckled and got up on his side of the bed, putting the take out container on the bed before coming around and grabbing Dean out of Sam’s arms. 

“Gonna put him down,” Cas said as he began walking off with him.

“Does he have to go in the crib tonight?” Sam half begged.

“No,” Cas replied as he set the little boy in the bassinette that hadn’t yet left their room. “He can stay with us just for the night.”

Sam hummed before grabbing the fettuccini and downing a few bites before Cas returned. 

Together they finished up their dinner and fell asleep in their clothes above the covers, turned to look at the bassinette that Cas had pulled to the edge of the bed.

****

Dean was pretty content with how life turning out for him. He was back with Sam and Cas, back to his – properly – cleaned cowboy sheets in his room with the wild west town decal he liked to look at, and gnawing on his pirate ship while watching Dr. Sexy while stuck in his jumper. Sure, Sam and Cas had fed him an awful tasting oral syringe of antibiotics for the first week after coming home from the hospital, and they did so before his morning bottle so that the whole experience tasted like he was eating warm glue, but even then Dean wasn’t mad at them, because he couldn’t get over the novelty of the situation.

Dean had been sick. Down right in need of immediate medical attention sick, and someone – _two someone’s_ – had seen to it that he got better.

Screw John, the last time _anyone_ had taken care of him period was a nurse in high school who had held a paper towel to his bloody nose after getting his face bashed in by a couple of jocks who had used his face for target practice simply because; they could, they were bored rich kids, and as a student who received a discounted lunch he “had it coming to him.”

Before that it had to have been Dean’s mom when he had the chicken pocks shortly before she died. 

The rest of Dean’s illnesses and injuries had been on him.

Either way, Cas and Sam hadn’t abandoned him at the hospital. They weren’t gearing him up for another adoption, and he didn’t have to be worried about being left behind. Because – as it seemed – the two strange men who called themselves Papa and Daddy were here to stay.

Speaking of which, Dean turned his head to look into the kitchen where Cas was on a baking spree. Pies, breads, cupcakes and other assorted baked goods littered the kitchen counters and Dean hadn’t a clue what it was for. The man in question was humming, stirring a pot of what Dean suspected was mac and cheese on the stove while wearing a gloriously hideous apron covered in flour. The man was cutting into Dean’s lunch time though, and Dean was becoming impatiently hungry.

“Ba!” he screeched into the open air of the kitchen, startling Cas enough to make the older man look at him.

In the days following Dean’s breakout from the hospital he had found that when he focused he was able to make distinguishable baby sounds that Sam and Cas were able to interpret. Dean’s favorite being “ba” which at first had applied to Dean’s bottle, but lately was good enough as Dean’s go-to whenever he demanded food. His others were “duh” – which was his poor attempt at making a “T” sound – which meant that he wanted his turtle, wherever the stuffed animal had gotten off to. And “mmba” which he used interchangeably for if he was getting a massage or a bath.

“Sorry sweetheart, almost finished,” Cas said giving the pot a taste. Apparently declaring it cooked enough Cas poured some out onto one of Dean’s plastic plates and then placed it on the counter to cool.

Dean hadn’t had Cas’s mac and cheese before. But he was wholly looking forward to it. Cas had made the recipe from scratch. Melting down an assortment of cheeses in butter and milk before adding it to the noodles he had been boiling. 

Dean had never had homemade mac and cheese before at all. His was always the cheap boxed stuff microwaved in a bowl with a little tap water.

Just as Dean saw the last wave of steam roll off his dish Sam walked into the kitchen. The taller man had probably smelled lunch too. And after giving the air in the kitchen an appraising sniff the man swooped down and took a bite out of Dean’s patiently waited for mac and cheese.

“Ahh! Ba! Ba!” Dean shrieked and tugged at the reigns keeping him in the highchair. Just give him one clean shot to that dorky face and --- 

“Oh, sorry sweetie, bet you’re hungry huh?”

“Ba!” Dean cried again. Seriously? How many times would he have to tell these people he was hungry?

“I got him,” Sam said waving Cas off while grabbing the plate and a fork before sitting at the stool next to Dean. Sam sat the plate on his highchair tray and fed Dean two scoops. Dean kept his hand on the fork the whole time, making sure Sam was getting it to his mouth quick enough.

But after those two scoops Cas had called Sam over to give him a hand moving around a tray of brownies or something – the man had run out of counter space it seemed – and Sam walked off leaving Dean hungry.

He had been all set to pout and kick his feet at having been forgotten while hungry, but instead of doing that he had grabbed the fork Sam had left behind and continued with feeding himself. 

It was messy. And not very pretty in its technique, but Dean had managed to get two whole noodles in his mouth. Two! 

From the feel of it a great deal more had ended up on his cheeks, but what did that matter? Dean was feeding himself mac and cheese! Screw doing a solo salt and burn at fourteen, this was the real accomplishment of Dean’s life!

Dean went back to scoop up some more when the rubber tines on his fork got bent backward with a few noodles mashed between them. He released the pressure on the utensil and immediately felt the noodles launch back and land in his hair. He jerked in surprise at that, but quickly resumed eating. He had the muscle control and dexterity of a five month old; there were going to be some casualties in him feeding himself.

He had just succeeded in getting a single noodle perfectly situated at the end of his fork and into his mouth when Sam turned around to look at him.

“Oh. My. Goodness! Cas, look at your son,” he heard Sam saying off to his left.

Dean turned to shoot his innocent looking green eyes at the two men. Sam was turned fully to face him, one hand patting at Cas’s shoulder while the smile on his face was all dimples-a-popping.

Cas looked frazzled and had somehow managed to get flour in his hair since the last time Dean had looked over at him. Uncaring of how he looked Dean giggled at the sight and kicked his feet as he smiled back at the two men.

Sam followed Dean’s eyes to Cas and demanded that the older man crouch next to Dean’s highchair so that he could get a picture of his “two messy boys.”

And Dean – too happy at feeding himself some of the best damn macaroni and cheese in the world – let his gummy smile shine in the pictures Sam took. Even the ones where Cas was kissing his cheesey cheeks. 

After undoubtedly uploading a few of the pictures to his Facebook page Sam was back at the bar stool next to Dean, where he figured the older man would want to take over feeding again. After all, it was cleaner when Sam did it.

Dean held the fork out, expecting Sam to take it, but the man just waved a hand at Dean and said “keep going sweetheart; you’re doing a great job.”

He felt really proud of himself hearing Sam’s praise, he was trying really hard and Sam seemed to pick up on that. Getting such a freely offered verbal pat on the back like that wasn’t something Dean was accustomed to.

While Dean kept attempting to feed himself Sam kept making the most ridiculous faces and sounds to accompany him. Whenever Dean opened his mouth Sam would open his extraordinarily wide and lean forward over the tray, closing his jaws with exaggerated chomping sounds that had Dean giggling with every bite he took.

It was extremely slow going with Dean feeding himself, but Sam didn’t seem to care about that one bit. It was also pretty messy with Dean doing it, but other than picking noodles off of his face – to put some back on the tray or to just feed it to Dean from his fingers – Sam didn’t make a move to clean the mess up just yet.

It was kind of nice to just sit back and enjoy something as simple as being goofy while eating lunch.

*****

Cas was just finishing the icing on the mini cupcakes he had made when he heard Sam sing song “All done!” behind him.

It had taken nearly three times as long for Dean to feed himself lunch than it would have if Sam did it himself, but that wasn’t nearly as important as watching Dean finally relax and enjoy himself in his role as his and Sam’s baby. 

Throughout the hour long process of Dean feeding himself the three of them had been laughing almost constantly. Dean found the faces that Sam made to be extremely giggle worthy, and the sound of carefree baby giggles got to him and Sam every time. 

Cas was actually a little grateful Dean had finally finished because he wasn’t sure how much more laughing his stomach muscles could take.

“And just in time too!” he shot over his shoulder, “I’ve got some special cupcakes that I need some help with!”

Cas grabbed the tray of a dozen cupcakes and carried it over to Dean’s highchair. The little boy was trying to get a glimpse of what he was holding while Sam wiped a burp cloth over the boy’s entire head. Sam started dabbing at a spot behind the boy’s right ear and Cas couldn’t help the laugh that left him.

“He got it behind his ear?”

“He got it on his feet,” Sam replied.

“How messy are you?” Cas asked bending over to stare into those happy green eyes.

Dean’s response was the baby version of a snicker; the little stinker sure thought his messiness was funny – but then again so didn’t he and Sam.

“Okay,” Cas said sitting down in the stool Sam had recently occupied while his husband attempted to finish cleaning the boy up. “I got a special assignment for you De.”

And with those words green eyes turned enthusiastic. 

“I’ve got some cupcakes here and I need your help decorating them, think you can help me with that?”

Dean ‘mmmed’ and started kicking his feet out, which Cas took as a yes.

He set four cupcakes on Dean’s high chair to start off with and pulled out the sprinkles and decorative frosting tubes out of his apron pockets, setting them on the tray within Dean’s reach. Cas took the tops off of everything telling the eager little boy what everything was and what colors they were.

Dean immediately picked up a bottle of sprinkles, the sugar crystal ones, the ones that were _impossible_ to clean up, and just as Cas was reconsidering his idea Dean began to gently shake the blue crystals over one of the cupcakes. 

“Wow! Good job Dean!” Cas praised the little boy with everything but sarcasm; because, wow, that was actually kind of impressive.

Dean kept humming and joyfully kicking out his feet as he played with the frosting and sprinkles. Cas only had to stop Dean once when the little boy kept squeezing frosting onto his hand and licking it up, but with a gentle reminder of “on the cupcake Dean,” he went back to decorating like he had been.

After a short while Cas had a plate of decorated cupcakes, that were very clearly decorated by a five month old with a sweet tooth. As each cupcake had at least four different kinds of sprinkles over the top of them and an additional glob of frosting added to what Cas had already put on them.

Cas was obviously biased when he boasted about how “beautiful” they were when Dean had finished the last one. And why wouldn’t he? His baby boy had decorated them all by himself; of course those were beautiful cupcakes!

They were going to make a wonderful center piece for Dean’s six month birthday/meet the family that weekend.

*****

The first sign that something was up was the fact that his daily bath took place in the morning. Usually Sam and Cas bathed him at night, just before bed, but this particular morning Dean was put into the sink and scrubbed down immediately after his morning bottle. The second sign had been the fact that the house was cleaner and more put together than usual. 

After his bath Sam had carried him upstairs to his nursery and instead of putting him in the usual onesie that they dressed him in he had been subjected to the baby equivalent of a green dress shirt – which was just like a onesie but with buttons down the front and a collar – and dark jeans which fit him snugly due to the elastic waist band. Sam had then slipped green argyle socks over his feet before stuffing them in Velcro shoes that he’d only ever worn once before.

Sam had undoubtedly noticed the pout donning his face, but instead of explaining the outfit Sam had merely kissed him on his cheek and carried him back downstairs. During their absence Cas had folded up the playpen and shoved the toys into a box in the living room that they rarely ever made it into anymore, growing more worried by the second Dean shoved one hand in his mouth and grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair with the other one. 

He didn’t like the way things were starting to look.

As if the ominous signs about the house weren’t enough the front doorbell rang and Cas came running out of the kitchen to meet he and Sam at the front door. 

Sam reached out and turned the knob and – a goddamn swarm descended upon the house. There were so many people pouring in through the front door, as if they had all waited on the front steps for everyone to gather before deciding to come inside. There was an assortment of ages. Younger couples, older couples. Little kids – though they were years older than Dean. 

They all greeted Sam and Cas with hugs and kisses, and those who greeted Sam greeted Dean as well. Though after only four people Dean had had enough of the overwhelming numbers and burrowed his face in Sam’s neck. After that people were patting his back – or his butt! – and asking if he was “too shy to say hi?”

Dean wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, or why all of these people were here until he spotted a collection of presents and gift bags build up in the living room.

“He’s pretty little for six months huh?” he heard one particularly gruff voice say.

“He’s plenty big Dad,” Sam replied back.

So that’s what this was? A birthday party for Dean turning six months? Had he already been with these guys for a month?

Once everyone was in the house and the front door was shut it was only a matter of time before someone tried getting their hands on him. The first one was in the shape of a little girl who had to have been about eight. 

“Uncle Sam, can I hold Baby Dean?” she was asking tugging at Sam’s shirt.

“Of course sweetheart, go sit on the couch and I’ll help you hold him.”

The girl bounced her way over to the loveseat and sat down holding her arms out as she expectantly waited for Sam to hand him off. 

The tall man bent over and managed to drop Dean’s lower half in her arms, though he was held up from completely letting him go as Dean outright _refused_ to let go of his hair. Sam had to pry his little fingers apart before he was finally able to stand up, and then Dean curled into a defensive little ball in the girl’s lap. 

She looked innocent enough with her pig-tails and missing front teeth, but her voice was too squeaky and her arms were too jerky when they moved him around. Dean put up with it though because Sam sat on the arm of the loveseat right next to him and kept a hand on his head, brushing through his hair in a soothing way while talking to some of the older grownups in the room. 

After a bit the girl – Beth, according to the name someone called out – heard about Cas’s collection of baked goods in the kitchen and passed Dean off to the next set of eager arms to hold him.

This one was a man who looked strikingly similar to Sam, though he was probably closer to Cas’s age. He determined the man to be Sam’s brother when the guy called out “you sure picked a cute one Sammy!”

Unlike Sam and Cas this guy had a fuzzy beard on his face, and since he was now out of Sam’s reach Dean distracted himself by patting at the scruffy face. The man smiled at him on occasion, but was mostly preoccupied with talking to the lady to his right; it wasn’t until the hand that Dean had previously been sucking on whacked his jaw that the man looked back over to him. 

Dean’s gums were hurting something fierce, especially at the front, and he was really wishing he had his pirate ship to chew on.

“Heya Sammy, you got a chew toy for your boy here?” the guy asked over Dean’s head.

“He isn’t a dog!” he heard Sam shoot back.

But the question retrieved his pirate ship for him, and Dean went to biting at the plastic toy to sooth his sore gums. 

The pirate ship also became a nice distraction for him as the number of people whose arms he was passed to grew in number. He met two uncles, an aunt, and three of his cousins before a thought finally struck him.

Sarah – the witch who had cursed him – was Sam’s cousin right? Didn’t that mean that she would be at the party? And more importantly, did that mean that everyone in attendance knew that he was an adult man in his mental state?

The possibility that everyone knew Dean’s background was startling and he bit down hard on his pirate ship to calm himself. The action made him wince though as an unexpected jolt of pain lanced through him. Dean pulled the mast out of his mouth and noticed a spot of red mixed in with the drool that covered the toy. Had he finally cut his first tooth?

Excitement over the possibility was washed away as the pain in his gums became his priority. He started grunting and kicking, hoping that someone would recognize the predicament he was in, but he had forgotten that he was currently in the arms of an eleven year old who suddenly didn’t know how to handle holding a squirmy grunting baby.

“Gran’pa,” the girl called, elbowing the older gentleman next to her, “he’s fussin,” she said simply.

“Is he now?” asked the gruff voice that Dean recognized from earlier. The man turned around in his seat at the table and looked over at Dean. So this was his new grandfather. “What’s the matter Dean?” the man asked grabbing him under his arms and sitting him on the edge of the table. 

Dean stared up at the man with large green eyes. The guy was rough looking. Scraggily ill-taken care of beard that looked dirty, rough hands that pinched a little bit as they held him, breath that smelled like chewing tobacco and eyes that looked a little too cloudy for comfort. He was freaking Dean out.

Dean stuffed the pirate ship back in his mouth and whined. Perhaps if he kicked up a big enough fuss these fools would finally pass him off to Sam or Cas where he at least would feel more comfortable with this strange situation.

“Something wrong with your teeth huh?” the man said as he reached toward Deans mouth.

 _Shit,_ he had miscalculated. Surely this older man wouldn’t be easily deterred from dealing with Dean’s cries. If he was in fact a grandfather he probably knew how to put up with babies. As those fingers were still reaching for Dean’s mouth he went for broke. He only had one card left up his sleeve to get himself back into Sam’s or Cas’s arms, and if he had to use it, then damnit he was going to. 

With conscious effort Dean forced his bladder to empty, filling his diaper with pee in record time.

Just before those fingers touched his lips Dean gave his usual wet diaper cry and squirmed on the table top.

“Oh Dad, he’s probably wet,” he heard Sam say as he appeared behind the gentleman holding onto Dean. “Let me take him upstairs and --.”

“Nonsense!” The man stated standing up with Dean, “keep socializing, I’ll change Dean,” the guy said throwing Dean over his shoulder as he began to walk out of the dining room with Dean.

What!?! _No!_ He was supposed to be changed by Sam or Cas! Someone _familiar_ was supposed to take care of him, not some creepy old guy who frightened him.

Dean turned his sad green eyes on Sam, hoping that the man would catch onto Dean’s discomfort before he got too far away, but all he got in response was a worried set of eyes that – that were letting Dean be taken away!

 _Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!_

Sam was supposed to _save him!_ Not idly stand by and watch as he’s taken away! That’s the opposite of what Dean expected him to do!

Just as the older man was about to turn the corner, and remove Sam from his sight Dean sucked in a breath of air and shrieked the first thing that came to mind. 

“Dah DAH!” 

The ear-splitting noise made everyone within hearing range pause and look at him, and if Dean had been able to he would have turned to look at himself, because surely he looked shell-shocked. A plain scream would have worked to get what he wanted, but Dada had kind of slipped out. Had felt so _natural_. 

With an equally shocked look on his face Sam rushed forward and pulled Dean into his arms, which was wonderful, because Dean’s mind was too busy reeling at what he had just said to try to come up with another way to get back into the man’s arms.

Sam was running a hand up and down his back to calm him down – and now Dean realized he had been crying – as he heard Cas step up behind him.

“Did he say --?”

“Yeah.”

And that was all that was said.

He felt Cas kiss the back of his head, and his bottom received an affectionate pat before Sam carried him upstairs to be changed.

Throughout Dean’s diaper change he tried to figure out the reason behind him calling out Dada to Sam like that. He had been wholly against treating these men like the fathers they were trying to be to Dean, but as he laid on the changing table while Sam cooed over him, tickling his feet and making him smile while taking care of him Dean couldn’t remember why.

He’d been with them for a month, and – hospital visit included – it had been the best month of Dean’s life. Was getting a second chance at growing up with these two men really that bad?


	7. Dean's Sixth Month Birthday

Once Sam had Dean all cleaned up he made sure to take a moment to snuggle the little boy before heading back downstairs. Dean had seemed overwhelmed at the number of people holding him, and being in strange situations with people he didn’t know. 

It made him happy he and Cas had decided against inviting Sarah to the party, their main reason behind doing so had been because most of the family didn’t get along with her. Not even her own mother pretended to understand the woman who claimed to be a member of a witches coven or who conversed with the ‘other side via crystal balls. Sam was the only member of his family who actually had a real relationship with her. 

But after Dean’s outburst he was suddenly happy that the woman was absent, as seeing her would have probably exasperated the situation. 

Sam decided to sit down on the floor in Dean’s nursery with the little boy in his lap. He knew Dean wasn’t looking forward to being back downstairs with all of those people, and he tried to put himself in the mindset of a young man playing baby in order to better understand how his son felt.

Actually… that was a good place to start.

Sam positioned himself with his back against the wall and laid Dean on his back across Sam’s folded legs and grabbed at Dean’s ankles to clap his shoe-covered feet together as he spoke. 

“No one here knows about you Dean,” he whispered to those wide green eyes. “All they know is that your Papa and I adopted you and that we love you very much. That’s it sweetheart.”

Sam wasn’t sure if it had been something that had plagued Dean’s thoughts but he sure had seemed a little happier at hearing Sam’s words.

“If we go back now will you be okay?”

Dean frowned.

“Oh-kay, how about if I promise that only me and Papa will be the ones holding you. Will you be okay then?”

Dean still looked unconvinced, but nodded at his question.

“Alright De, let’s go see about that cake Papa made you!” Sam grunted as he stood up.

Sam was a little defensive of his little one as he walked downstairs and through the rooms leading to the kitchen. He could see a few hands reaching out to touch the little boy in his arms, and with a few skillful maneuvers he managed to move from room to room without anyone touching Dean. He couldn’t spy Cas in the hosue so he stepped outside onto the patio to find Cas manning the grill.

“Hey babe,” Sam said coming up behind his husband and giving him a kiss. 

Cas turned his head to meet his lips and Sam took the opportunity to whisper to him without others hearing.

“Dean’s getting a little overwhelmed with everything going on, can we do cake and presents so we can put Dean down for a nap?”

“Sure,” Cas replied, “you sit down with him at the picnic table, and I’ll get the cake and presents.”

Cas turned to ask Sam’s brother Tom to watch the grill while he stepped inside. “Hey! Everyone! We’re gonna --,” he heard Cas start shouting before the door closed behind him.

Sam walked over to the picnic table and sat down with Dean snuggled up to his chest, the little boy was sucking on his fingers as Sam rubbed at his back, whispering promises that as soon as all of his presents had been opened he would be bringing him straight upstairs for a reprieve via nap.

After a few minutes Cas came out carrying the tiny cake he had made specially for Dean followed by the collection of people that had sought the shelter of the air conditioning inside. Cas placed the cake in front of Dean and the little boy ‘mmmed’ as he squirmed closer to the table. 

Cas had taken the one solid piece of information that they knew about Dean, that he liked cowboys, and decorated the white cake with a fondant made cactus and sheriff’s badge. Or at least what the man claimed was a cactus and sheriff’s badge. Sam was unconvinced, as Cas’s cooking skills didn’t translate into cake artistry, but his husband had been too proud to allow for a professional to make his son’s first birthday cake. 

Dean reached out to smack his hand into the cake, but Sam was able to catch his wrist before his hand hit. 

“Ah Ah, gotta wait baby boy. We’ve gotta sing happy birthday first.”

Dean pouted, and made a noise he and Cas hadn’t heard him make before, he pressed his drooly lips together and blew bubbles. 

Sam smiled and motioned to Cas to step closer, “Cas, listen to him.”

Cas stood behind Sam and bent over his head, listening to the sounds of the little boy blowing spit bubbles. He bit his lower lip in his attempt to keep from laughing out loud, and simply shook his head as he retrieved a candle and a lighter from his pocket.

By the time Cas had the candle in the cake and lit everyone had assembled at or around the picnic table. Many of the women had pulled up chairs to sit nearby, while most of the men stood off to the side with their beers to kinda-sorta pay attention to what was happening. 

Sam hauled Dean up to stand on his thighs as he held him steady. He gave the boy a little shake asking him “you ready?” before starting everyone off singing “Happy Birthday” to the smiley six month old.

Dean was smiling throughout the song. Two fingers stuck in his mouth as he giggled at Sam’s purposefully – not really – bad singing. And at the end Sam held the little boy up in the air as Dean put his lungs to good use and promptly spit all over his cake, putting the flame out in the process. Fortunately enough Cas had the foresight to make Dean his own special cake that no one else would be subjected to eating. 

After Sam pulled the candle out of the frosting and set it to the side he placed Dean on the table so that the cake was between his legs. Sam kept a hand at Dean’s back to hold him steady and encouraged the little guy to eat his cake. Seeming unsure of what Sam was getting at Dean only reached forward and pressed his hand into the frosting before bringing his hand back and sucking at his fingers. 

“I think you can do better than that,” Sam said swiping at the frosting with his forefinger and dabbing it to Dean’s nose. 

Dean went cross eyed looking at the frosting tipped nose Sam had given him, and then turned those wide green eyes up at him.

“Don’t you wanna take a bite of your cake?”

Dean nodded – to which Sam noticed a lot of people looking a little bewildered at Dean’s understanding.

“Then take a bite!”

Dean leaned forward, making to smash his face into the cake – and everyone watching made little cheers and “oh oh!” noises of anticipation.

Sam smiled widely, showing Dean that smashing his face into the cake was _exactly_ what they wanted from him. After a few more false starts – Dean really did seem shy unless it was he or Cas showing him attention – Dean pushed his face into the edge of the cake taking in a huge bite of frosting. 

“Yeah!” Sam cheered along with everyone else. “That taste good sweetheart?” 

Dean ‘mmmed’ as he sat back, giggling and smiling at all of the frosting he had clinging to his face. The little boy squirmed toward the edge of the table – scooting closer to Sam. Naturally thinking that his boy was coming back to him Sam picked him up, uncaring about any frosting that he got on his shirt. He was a father to a boy under one, his shirts were disposable now. But once in his arms Dean kept squirming until he was practically crawling over his shoulder to get to Cas who was still standing behind him.

Cas slipped Dean from Sam’s hands, and Sam turned around as Cas settled Dean high on his hip. Then, with everyone watching, Dean planted a sloppy, wet, frosting covered kiss on Cas’s cheek. 

Sam was pretty sure his heart started crying at how overwhelmingly sweet it looked.

Everyone around the picnic table turned into a chorus of ‘awws’ at the sight, and if Cas’s sudden rapid blinking was any indication the man was struggling not to show his raw emotions at the display by crying. Instead he grinned down at Sam who – after knowing the man for ten years – knew to interpret it as meaning, “he said your name first, but _I_ got the first kiss!”

Sam just rolled his eyes.

He somehow managed to get Dean back from his husband so that Dean could spend a few more minutes ‘eating’ his cake, which turned into a whole lot of cake grabbing, and meant that Sam was going to have to change his shirt and shorts after putting Dean down for his nap. 

Once Dean had smeared enough frosting into their wooden picnic table Sam and Cas cleaned off Dean’s hands. Sam took the typical approach by taking the napkin his mom had offered him from across the table and wiping the sticky fingers off, while Cas just bent over and sucked the frosting off Dean’s little fingers. 

Sam couldn’t really argue though, not when it got the frosting off faster and in a way that produced much more giggles from Dean than Sam’s method. 

Cas indicated that they were going to open presents on the lawn so that Dean had more room to move around and while everyone pokied on over to the grass Sam stood up and started pulling Dean’s shoes off. The little boy’s pants were goners and he would only succeed in making a mess of his new toys and presents if Sam allowed him to continue wearing his messed up jeans. 

Dean agreed with the no shoes or socks, as he wiggled his toes after Sam had freed them. When Sam started tugging at his pants though is when Dean had an issue. 

His boy was squirming away from the hands that were slowly stripping him, and grunting as he smacked at Sam’s hands. 

“Oh c’mon,” Sam cooed, kissing Dean on his cheeks. “Let’s show everyone your cute little legs.”

Dean almost growled at that, but allowed him to pull the jeans off before Sam tossed them onto the picnic table where the remains of the cake sat. He then handed Dean off to Cas who proceeded to place Dean on the ground, holding his hands as he helped him to walk to the edge of the brick patio. 

Their family members watched on with a sense of amazement at Dean being so young and moving so steadily. Sure, they didn’t realize that the main reason Dean seemed so advanced for his age was because he was actually an adult in his mindset, but that didn’t mean that Sam should be any less proud of him.

Sam walked slowly behind his husband who – upon reaching the step down from the patio – swung Dean onto the grass and let the little boy land gently on his hands and knees, giggling the whole time. Cas then picked Dean up as if he were a football and jogged to the center of all of the presents. 

They had discussed this beforehand. Sam did cake. Cas did presents. It wasn’t really a matter of anything other than the fact that if Sam were the one opening gifts Cas wouldn’t remember to take notes on who gave them what, which would make thank you cards that much more difficult later on. 

Sam pulled out his phone and prepared himself to take notes, knowing that his family members – meaning his mom and his sister-in-law – would take pictures of Dean opening his presents for him.

Cas started out with the biggest gift bag, he pulled the bag closer and gave the tissue paper sticking out of the top a gentle tug to prompt Dean to pull on it all on his own. Dean was sitting in Cas’s lap, but didn’t seem too interested in the prospect of presents.

From where Sam was standing off to the side he saw the little boy give an exhausted sigh before reaching out and pulling the tissue paper free. Cas then took that as his cue to tip the bag over and mostly open the gift himself.

People were calling out “who’s it from?” and so Sam didn’t have to inquire himself.

Cas pulled out the card and flipped it over a few times before opening it, scanning the contents and declaring “To Dean, Love Tom, Jess and Beth.”

Sam typed out their names on his phone.

Inside was a pair of baby swim trunks, some floaties, a large sun hat, sun block, and a blow up ‘beach’ set that could have water in one half and sand on the other. 

“Oh wow!” Cas said flipping the beach box over to read the back. “This is really cool guys.”

“I’m kind of surprised you don’t have the pool open yet,” Jess called out from where she was kneeling in the grass. “I figured it would have been your first activity with Dean now that the weather is starting to heat up.”

Sam nodded and listened to Cas’s reply.

“It’s been kind of a slow start to summer,” to which everyone agreed, that year winter practically skipped over spring and now they were staring down the barrel of 90 plus degree weather. That was the Midwest for you. “But even if the temperatures were higher we probably wouldn’t have opened it anyway. Our little guy has been taking too much attention away from us, huh Dean?” Cas said changing over to the tone of voice he always used when talking to the little boy.

“We also didn’t want Dean getting sick,” Sam remarked from where he stood. The family had heard about Dean’s stint in the hospital, and while many of them had wanted to come out to see their baby or to be home when they arrived Sam and Cas had been adamant that the stress of the hospital combined with meeting new people would be way too much for Dean all at once. Hell, even after a month meeting the family was too much for the little guy. But Sam and Cas had only been able to hold them off for so long. And when Sam’s mom had suggested throwing Dean a six month birthday party it had been hard to pass up. 

“Well, I’m sure this way Dean can get outside without too many problems, huh sweetheart?” Sam’s mom had ‘inconspicuously’ moved closer to where Cas was holding Dean. The woman was a vulture when it came to babies, and Sam knew for a fact that she hadn’t held Dean yet. It would be a small miracle to get through the day without his mom holding Dean at least for a minute. He was confident Dean could handle it post nap, but definitely not pre. 

Cas seemed prepared to ignore the woman zeroing in on the small person occupying his lap, but Dean sure as hell was noticing the woman’s proximity. Sam would have to tread carefully to get Dean away from grabby grandma hands while keeping the peace. 

Biting his lips and weighing his options he ran inside and grabbed one of the premade bottles they kept on hand for Dean before stepping back out. In his absence Cas had only pulled a small gift bag closer, and was holding the bag up to Dean who only seemed interested enough to pluck at the tissue paper. Dean’s patience was draining quickly.

Sam stepped up to Cas’s left and plopped down on the grass, holding the bottle out enough so that Dean could see it. And Dean, hand still wrapped around the tissue paper he was holding, crawled over Cas’s knee and onto Sam’s lap, popping his lips open and waiting for the milk filled nipple as Sam resituated the boy in his lap. 

Cas pulled the rest of the tissue paper out and examined the gift while Sam ducked his head to press a kiss into Dean’s clean smelling hair, while Dean played with tearing the paper and throwing it while sucking at his bottle in the middle of Sam’s lap. 

The small gift bag was very little, and held a gift card in it for their local baby department store. 

“Mmm, who’s that one from Cas?” Sam asked pulling his phone out with his free hand. 

“It’s from,” he flipped the card over. “Your Aunt and Uncle.”

Sam took a note on his phone. 

As Cas was pulling forward another present to let Dean ‘unwrap’, Sam’s mother leaned backwards and got Sam’s attention. 

“Honey, your hands are full with writing all of this down, let me hold Dean for you,” she offered, extending her arms. 

Sam shook his head, keeping his lips pressed to Dean’s golden crown. “He’s alright Mom,” and he let the matter drop.

After that Cas ended up opening the remainder of the presents for Dean, as the little boy couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to anything other than his piece of tissue paper or his bottle. 

A few of their relatives made comments to Sam about how he was ‘distracting’ Dean wrongfully, though many of the parents who had recently had children had knowing looks on their faces. Probably remembering the days when they had little ones to ‘guard’ from well-meaning family members.

It wasn’t like Cas and Sam were trying to keep their family from Dean – or Dean from their family for that matter – they wanted everyone to get along and be with one another, but all in good time. Dean was still adjusting to being a baby, a struggle their family didn’t know Dean had, but he was getting there. Each day Sam and Cas saw how more and more comfortable he was getting with his role. 

There was also the fact that Dean was adjusting to Sam and Cas themselves. It hadn’t been for long that Dean started seeking out cuddles and comfort from the two men, and he didn’t want to force Dean into uncomfortable situations where Dean would feel betrayed. 

It was just a lot for the little guy, and he and Cas only wanted to do their best to protect him and raise him right. It was their job as his daddies. 

And fortunately for him most of their family got that.

With Cas opening the presents things moved along much more quickly. 

There was the beach and swimming stuff from Sam’s brother and his wife. The gift card from Sam’s aunt and uncle. Cas’s sister gave them a play-set that was decorated like a wild west town – she had seen the Facebook pictures of Dean’s nursery she said. Some of Cas’s cousins gave them a collection of clothes for when Dean was older and had grown out of the stuff they had bought him, as well as the most adorable pair of brown baby boots they had ever seen – they were the exact brand and style of the work boots Sam favored to wear when he wasn’t dressed for work. 

And Cas’s two aunts and uncles had put their gifts together and bought an expensive jogging stroller that they pulled out of the trunk of their car – the two men liked to jog together and hadn’t been able to after bringing Dean home. 

Sam was all set to say another blanket ‘Thank You’ statement when he realized everyone was looking toward the house. Sam turned to see his Dad and Tom bringing out a familiar item; the rocking chair his own mother had rocked him in.

“What?” he gasped as the two men set the piece on the brick patio. Sam was standing up with Dean and walking over before he realized it. “You guys kept this?” Sam said as he got closer.

“Course,” his Dad replied stepping up to Sam’s side, fists on his hips as he admired the chair. “Had to hold onto it so that I could give it to you when you finally had rugrats of your own.”

Was Sam really attached to the chair? No. It was an old piece of furniture his parents had picked up at a second hand shop when he had been born. It was more or less the idea that he could rock his son to sleep in the same rocking chair that he had fallen asleep in that had Sam so excited.

“Well try it out!” he heard his uncle call behind him.

Sam was all smiles as he turned around and sat in his childhood rocker with his own son in his lap.

He began rocking back and forth as he worked to get Dean situated in the crook of his arm. There was still a little bit left of his bottle to finish, as Dean had let go of the nipple to occasionally look at something Cas had unwrapped, and so he offered it to Dean who latched on right away. 

Everyone cooed at the sight.

Dean made a whiny grunting sound at all of the attention and spit the nipple out in favor of burrowing his face into Sam’s shirt.

“Sure is a shy little guy.”  
“Someone’s tired.”  
“I think he’s full Sam.”  
“—should probably burp him.”

The round of comments from his family was actually starting to get to _him_ so Sam definitely knew they had reached their limit before it became necessary to put Dean down for a nap.

“Hey, thank you for everything guys, we really appreciate it.”

“We really do,” Cas said coming forward to take Dean. “I’m gonna take Dean upstairs for a nap before he gets cranky, Tom, Henry, can you bring the rocker up to Dean’s nursery for me?”

Sam walked off the patio and began helping Jess and his Mom clean up the gifts and presents while everyone else dispersed. He was confident that Cas would get Dean upstairs and get him down for a nap safely enough.

He had just stepped up to the pile of ripped gift wrap and presents when Jess descended on him. 

“Are you guys sure that he’s only six months?” was the question that started the whole thing off, “because he sure does seem smart for his age.”

“Well, I mean the hospital did only gue--,” was as he managed to get out before his Mom jumped in.

“I know he’s pretty little for six, Sam, honey, but he sure is an intelligent little fella. I mean, he could understand a lot of what you were saying to him, and that’s uncommon for someone Dean’s age. You might want to consider getting him tested.”

“For what!” Sam snapped, he couldn’t help but be defensive of his little boy.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said standing up straight with the beach box tucked under her arm. “They have those baby IQ tests don’t they Jess?” she asked the other woman.

“Yeah, you could always have one done Sam. I bet Dean would score higher than you’d think.”

Sam bit his lip as he shoved a bow into the garbage bag Jess was holding. Dean wasn’t actually advanced, but his family didn’t know that. He should have figured that his and Cas’s fiv—six month old behaved a little differently from other kids of the same age group. But he didn’t think it was something they would have to answer for.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Sam scoffed _good job,_ he couldn’t help but chastise himself, _because playing it off won’t make them more adamant in pressing the issue._ “Dean’s not like some genius baby, he’s just developing a little quicker than usual. There’s nothing weird about that.”

Sam’s mother and Jess had a few more comments on the matter, but he could tell for the moment that the issue had been dropped. 

*****

Once the cake and presents were over with most of the party members were ready to head out. Cas met Sam at the front door after changing Dean into some jammies, and lying him down for his nap. Cas had just enough time to comb his fingers through Dean’s golden blonde hair before the little boy dropped off immediately into sleep. This whole birthday party had sure wore him out.

The only people who remained from those who had left were Sam’s brother’s family and Sam’s parents. Cas knew that the Wesson family had a knack for sitting around talking about nothing for hours and yet making it the best time possible. They were all gathered around the kitchen, Sam, Jess and Sam’s mother Mary were cleaning away the party leftovers. Empty cups, dirty plates, used utensils. Mary was wiping off counters as Jess was packaging food away into containers to store in the fridge. 

Henry, Tom, Beth and he were sitting at the kitchen’s bar counter top, though with not enough stools Beth was in her father’s lap. 

It wasn’t surprising that not after too long Mary was able to shift the focus to the little boy who was currently napping upstairs.

“He’s just _adorable!_ ” she was saying as she wrung out her sponge. “I mean, goodness gracious. Those pretty green eyes! Oh! You guys are going to have such a little heart-breaker on your hands when he gets older.”

Cas smirked as he caught Sam’s eye. Yeah, their kid was cute.

“How long does Dean usually nap for?” she asked suddenly very serious, and Cas knew where this was going.

“Mom,” Sam began to caution the woman. 

“Well I’m just saying! There’s a new baby in the family. My _baby’s_ baby, and I haven’t got a chance to hold him one bit.”

“I got to hold Baby Dean!” Beth declared proudly. “He was pretty squirmy though.”

“He’s an active little stinker, that’s for sure,” Cas added to the conversation as he reached for one of Dean’s decorated cupcakes. No one had made a grab for any of the twelve that he had put out as most people weren’t keen on the idea of eating something that was the size of a golf ball that surely contained over a day’s worth of calories to them.

“I meant to ask you about those cupcakes,” Tom said grabbing himself one as if he had just realized they were there, “you suffer an eye injury while cookin there Cas? Cause these are the ugliest damn cupcakes I’ve ever seen.”

“Shu up,” Cas retorted, his voice thick as he swallowed down enough processed sugar to make his cardiac system go into shock. “Dean decorated these cupcakes all by himself and _I_ think they’re beautiful.”

Tom snorted as he took a bite, “S’a father’s curse. You’ve always gotta love your kids’ work.”

“Hey!” Beth shouted. Obviously realizing what her father meant by these words. 

“Accept for you pumpkin. I’d think all of your stuff is beautiful even if you weren’t my baby girl.”

Beth seemed appeased by Tom’s words and turned back away from her father. Once the eight year old was facing the other direction Tom shot him a look that said “see what I mean?”

Cas smiled as he watched Sam fish a six pack out from the fridge. “Anyone want a beer?” 

Tom and Henry’s hands went up and so Sam popped the tops off and handed the drinks over.

“We should head outside, it’s beautiful out,” Tom suggested after a swallow of his beer.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “let me go upstairs and get the baby monitor.”

“Oh, I brought it down,” Cas said patting his back pocket. 

With that they moved to the brick patio. 

It was the first real nice night of the summer. The days were long enough that people could enjoy their evenings outside, it was warm enough to allow people to go out in their t-shirts, yet cool enough for people to enjoy sitting around a fire if they warranted one. 

Henry Wesson was of the mindset that a proper summer day couldn’t take place without a fire, and so he set about starting one in his and Sam’s fire pit that they had further out in the backyard. Everyone else sat around, staring into the flames and having the types of conversations that were always repeated yet somehow different. Just like usual family get togethers. 

The guys had all finished their second beers by the time Cas heard anything come through the monitor. At first it was just the sound of fabric moving around, then a few minutes later it was a small grunt. He knew he wasn’t the only one hearing Dean wake up as he could see Jess and Mary exchange glances with each other. 

It wasn’t until Cas heard the tell-tale sound of a sneeze that he knew Dean was awake for sure. At that he got up and went to move in the house at the same time that Mary stood up.

“Oh Cas, just sit down. Let me go get that baby for you,” she said waving her hands.

Cas knew the woman meant well, but Dean wouldn’t like the feeling of being ambushed while in the sanctuary of his nursery. 

“No Mom, just let Cas --,” Sam started saying.

“Oh hush. Now I’ve been here for a few hours now and I want to hold that baby,” she announced as she went to rush by the fire.

“Mary would you just sit down?” Henry barked at the woman. “Dean’s had a hard enough day as it is. Let his Papa go get ‘im and when they come back you can hold him then,” the old man shook his head as he looked at his wife. “You go in there right now in frantic grandma mode and you’re going to shock the boy.”

Mary looked a little upset at the public lecture, but seemed to realize her husband’s point. “I promise you can hold him when I bring him down Mary,” Cas assured the woman before ducking into the house.

Up in the nursery Dean was lying flat on his back with his hand shoved in his mouth. Upon seeing who was hovering over his crib green eyes looked up at Cas as he questioned “Ah?”

“Ah?” Cas parroted as he reached into the crib and lifted the little boy. “That’s a new one sweetheart. What’s ‘ah’?”

Dean giggled as Cas situated him up in his grip before he patted Cas on the face. “Ah,” he repeated. 

“Oh, am I Ah?” Cas asked as he turned and laid Dean down on the changing table. 

Dean did his baby snicker again, clearly thinking the name he had given his Papa was funny.

“That makes it sound like I’m scary. Like you’ve gotta scream when Papa comes by,” he said as he unsnapped the lower half of Dean’s jammies to change his diaper. 

Dean just kept giggling. Litter stinker thought he was so funny…

After changing him Cas walked downstairs to the kitchen to grab something for Dean to eat. He hadn’t been eating much throughout the day. That morning at breakfast he had spit out pretty much all of the hot cereal Cas had fed him. He had had less than zero interest in the bits of hot dog Sam had tried feeding him at lunch. All he had really eaten was some frosting from his cake and the bottle before his nap. 

He opened the fridge and peered inside. “Alright Deanie, what looks yummy?” 

Dean shook his head all of the fridge contents. 

“No? Well maybe the freezer has got something.”

Cas opened the freezer up and Dean gave the contents and appraising glance before reaching for a box of fudge pops Cas kept on hand for when he wanted a chocolate fix.

“I dunno Dean. Your Daddy wouldn’t be very happy if you ate only sugar today.”

“Da?”

“Yeah, Da.”

Small hands patted at his face and Cas made the mistake to look. Dean was shooting him the most pathetic look with those big green eyes of his and just as he retained enough strength to say no Dean stole any chance Cas had at getting away with feeding his son something moderately healthy by whining out “Ah?”

Cas sighed and reached for the damn box. “Alright. You and I can share this fudge pop,” he reasoned as he took one out of the box. “But you’re the one telling your Daddy why I caved.”

Dean was ‘mmm’ing as Cas opened the package before holding the cold treat up to Dean’s mouth. If he was going to get yelled at by Sam for this then he wanted Dean nice and fudgey before they walked outside.

As soon as his son had a chocolate goatee going on Cas stepped outside. 

He had about two seconds of peace before he heard Sam cry out, “Cas! What the hell!”

And Cas could only smile as he walked over to Sam and pointed at the taller man. “Mkay Dean, who’s that?”

“Da.”

“Okay, and what’s my name?” Cas asked biting his lip.

“Ah!” Dean chirped excitedly.

Cas turned and matched Dean’s grin as he looked at Sam.

“You’re Ah?”

“Ah!” Dean repeated before swooping down to suck the fudge pop into his mouth.

“Yes. Our son has decided to call me Ah, and for that he gets fudge pops,” Cas reasoned as he sat next to Mary. 

“I’m going to pass you off to grandma now Dean, but I’ll still help you eat okay?”

Dean ‘mmmed’ and all but ignored the fact that he was being passed off to the older woman. Cas was okay with that. If distracting the boy with frozen fudge got him through his first encounter with Mary then, hey, whatever they had to do to avoid tears.

Mary was finally satisfied with her newest grandson perched on her lap. She kept looking over to Sam with this little gleam in her eye that Cas knew came from the fact that she was finally holding a child that belonged to Sam. 

It had been an awkward moment in the Wesson household when Cas had stepped into the picture ten years ago. Sam’s family hadn’t been fully aware of his sexuality, and when Mary realized the implication of a lesser chance at grandchildren from him she had been a little upset. 

Over the course of their marriage he and Sam had heard plenty enough about adoption and surrogacy from the woman to make them borderline experts on the subjects. So for her longtime dream of holding one of Sam’s children to come true was a special moment for the woman. Dean didn’t know all of this though. All he knew was that someone he didn’t know was holding him and his Papa was feeding him a fudge pop, but hey. It worked. 

Cas kept his promise and shared the treat with his son, making sure that the little boy didn’t completely fill up on chocolate, and when all that remained was the wooden stick Cas tossed it into the fire. Satisfied that with a full belly, and Cas nearby, he knew Dean would be okay enough for him to return to the conversation.

Barely ten minutes had passed though before he heard a shocked “Ouch!” come from Mary.

He turned to see his mother in law extract her forefinger from Dean’s mouth before pulling down the boys lower lip to examine his gums. “Would you look at that!” she exclaimed. 

“What?” he and Sam asked at the same time.

“Dean cut his first tooth!”

He and Sam stood up to hover over Dean and look at the little expanse of white embedded in the boy’s swollen pink gums. They had been waiting for this to happen for quite some time, and were excited that Dean’s chewing had finally got him somewhere. 

“Congratulations,” Tom was saying when they both sat down, “and good luck,” he added ominously.

“Good luck?” Sam repeated before taking a pull from his beer. 

“Yeah,” Jess cut in, “when Beth went through teething and finally started cutting teeth I couldn’t remember getting any sleep. She was always crying no matter what was going on or where we were.”

“Well, didn’t you have rings?” Cas asked, clearly not remembering this dark spot in Tom and Jess’s parenting. 

“Oh, loads of em. We had the rings, the hard chewy treats. We tried ice, and soaking her gums with cool towels.”

“We froze some of the toys she favored to chew on,” Jess continued, “and pfft,” she threw her hands up in the air. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Cas repeated growing worried that they weren’t telling the truth but at the same time were. “But, I mean Dean has been a champ at teething so far, I don’t really think he’ll --.”

“Oh he will,” Mary assured him as she continued to try to spy Dean’s new tooth despite his squirmy protests. 

“All babies are a pain while teething,” Henry cut in. And, well, if Henry thought they were a pain then they were a pain. He was the one man who could sit in a room for a colicky baby for ten hours straight and not lose his sanity. “The hardest part about teething is the fact that Dean is going to have something to cry about, and you and Sam are going to know exactly what the problem is, and there ain’t much you’re going to be able to do about it.” He said with an air of finality.

“I give it three weeks before you’re looking for an excuse to get out of the house.”

“Two,” Jess corrected.

“I give it six days,” Tom added.

“Oh you all are just trying to scare them,” Mary said as she brushed her hand through Dean’s hair. “Oh, but honey,” she said turning to face Sam, “tomorrow when you decide you’ve had enough can you call me to come watch him? I’d love some more time with the little angel.”

He and Sam just laughed. They were just playing them; Cas was sure of it. Dean was going to be fine while teething. After all, he had done wonderful so far. 

*****

In the end Tom was closest. They only made it a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously the next chapter is going to be about Dean's teething. That's something that a lot of you are looking forward to, and it's also going to give me a chance to address a few of the suggestions you guys have given me over the days. But I just wanted to let you guys know that the super rapid updates are probably going to be coming to an end. The semester is starting back up for me very soon and I have some things I need to get ready before it starts including getting everything set for a new job. So I'll apologize now for the fact that updates aren't going to be the once a day that they've been this past week. (And I'm still in shock that I was able to do that!) 
> 
> I usually like to update a story at least twice a month when I'm able to, just to let you guys know my usual posting schedule.
> 
> You guys have been wonderful so far and I hope to continue hearing from you as I get the chance to update! 
> 
> Thanks guys!


	8. TEETHING!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's teething!

The first two days after the party weren’t so bad. Dean’s gums surrounding the newly exposed white tooth were an angry red color, and were swollen enough to suggest that a second tooth was coming in close to the first. 

Dean spent most of his time while awake making a constant humming sound as he sucked on his fingers, and other than a low appetite he hadn’t shown any other indication that teething was going to be a painful process to get through. It was Tuesday morning – _early_ Tuesday morning – that they realized how bad things were going to get. 

At just about three in the morning Sam and Cas were startled awake by a sudden yelp that made its way through the baby monitor. The both of them had been prepared to get out of bed, but Cas waved Sam off since he had work that day. Sam was reluctant to go back to sleep; he never wanted to be the kind of spouse that left all matters involving raising their kids to the spouse that stayed at home, but doing it just the one time wouldn’t hurt.

When his alarm went off at six Cas still wasn’t back in bed.

Sam used the bathroom to relieve himself before stepping downstairs to find his husband and son, both semi-conscious on the couch. A cup was on the side table, and from the perspiration clinging to the glass Sam assumed that ice had filled it at one point, but had long since melted. 

Dean’s face looked pinched, and his eyes were puffy and red. Cas looked no better, the dark bags on his eyes suggested that he had been sympathy crying for Dean, and that the past three hours had been spent awake. 

Sam pulled Dean from Cas’s arms and put the little boy in his highchair. Dean looked unhappy with the move, but didn’t cry, he merely made his low humming whine, rubbing at his cheek with one hand while he sucked on the fingers of the other. 

He pulled an ice cube out of the freezer and spent five minutes holding it to the boy’s swollen gums before he even attempted to feed Dean breakfast. 

Sam tried feeding Dean cold applesauce. As applesauce was one of the boy’s favorites and the cold was the only thing that stopped the pain in the boy’s swollen gums. Dean only opened his mouth for two bites.

Sam had been able to give Cas enough time to run upstairs, shower, and change before he had to get ready for work himself. And when he came back downstairs it was to find Cas holding Dean to his chest, the little boy crying and pulling at his own ear as Cas ate a piece of toast. 

The crying was interspersed with wet coughs as Dean’s aggravated throat betrayed him by causing further pain, adding to the loop of tears. Sam felt guilty and torn. Wanting to stay at home to help Cas and console Dean, yet guilty because he wanted to be at the office _specifically_ because he didn’t want to be around hearing Dean cry.

He ended up kissing both males on their heads and walking out the door.

*****

The house Sam returned to wasn’t much better. From texts Cas had sent throughout the day he knew that Dean was being downright _nightmarish_ in his behavior, as a combined lack of sleep the night before plus no nap that afternoon resulted in an overly tired, cried out, cranky, and in pain little boy who wanted to do nothing but throw everything and anything that was put on his highchair. 

Both males were in the kitchen – Dean in his highchair, Cas attempting to cook dinner – and both looked physically drained.

Sam skipped his usual greeting of giving his husband a kiss in favor of descending upon his son. 

Dean’s cries had sure increased in intensity since Sam had been at work. The little boy’s face was pinched and _red_ in his teething frustrations and continued crying, his right hand pulled furiously at his earlobe while the left did everything it could to try to yank off the bib which appropriately declared Dean as a “Little Monster.”

“What’s wrong big guy?” Sam asked as he sat down at the stool nearest his son. 

Dean didn’t outwardly acknowledge his presence, but Sam knew that Dean was aware that he was there. Sam moved to grab the little boy from the chair seeing that the straps weren’t done, and Dean flinched at Sam’s hands. 

Sam looked on curiously at that, but moved to sit back. 

“He doesn’t want to be picked up,” Cas said from the stove. “I think moving around makes his head hurt more.”

Sam nodded, not taking his eyes off the little boy as Dean started to cough. The change made his face muscles relax which made the glassy green eyes more visible as well as the tears that were clinging to his lashes. Sam couldn’t imagine how Cas had endured the long day.

“Where are those teething rings we picked up?” Sam asked, wondering why Dean wasn’t given one of the baby safe toys that were supposed to help him through the process. 

“Floor.”

“Floo --,” Sam repeated, confused until he looked down. All five of the teething rings they had bought were strewn across the kitchen floor. How he hadn’t seen them earlier…

Sam sighed and moved to pick the rings up anyways. He washed them off in the sink before putting them in the fridge, not even attempting to give one to Dean. And though it wasn’t what he wanted to do he did his best to turn his attention away from Dean and assist Cas with supper. 

“Need any help?” he asked.

Sam completely meant with the taco meat he was browning. He didn’t care if he had to assemble enchiladas, heat up some rice, or make tortillas from scratch. He would do anything to avoid looking at the sight his little boy created.

“Can you just entertain him?” Cas said turning his pleading blue eyes over to Sam. “For like, twenty minutes? I just – I just need to not hear _that_ ,” he indicated Dean with his head, “for twenty minutes.”

Sam lowered his eyes and nodded. It wasn’t like he wanted to be around the unending cries that he could do nothing about.

He walked back over to Dean’s highchair, and – despite Dean’s flinching – pulled the little guy out of his seat. Dean made his displeasure known by shrieking and yanking at Sam’s hair.

“Ouch! Dean, no pulling!” he said grabbing the little boy’s wrist and pulling it away from his hair. 

Dean only responded by snuggling into Sam’s chest and mouthing at Sam’s shirt. Sam sighed, it made Dean’s cries a little lower in volume, but was really going to ruin his shirt if he kept doing it.

Sam sat down on the couch, one hand supporting Dean, and the other on the remote, flipping through channels until he found an old eighties movie he figured Dean would like. He then leaned back against the couch and tried distracting himself by watching the screen, and not his constantly crying son. 

Ten minutes in he felt a sharp pinch on his collar bone, and looked down to see Dean’s jaw reflexively clenching with some of Sam’s skin sucked into his mouth. The strong pinch came again and Sam silently winced, but didn’t put a stop to Dean’s biting. He had finally found something the boy would chew on, sure it was him, but it was better than nothing. 

At the third pinch though Sam was worried Dean would break a hole in his shirt – and he actually kind of liked this one – so he popped a few buttons and adjusted the both of them on the couch so that he was reclining and Dean was higher up on his chest.

He was going to have a hickey on his chest from Dean sucking on his skin like that, but it made Dean content enough to fall asleep during the movie, so Sam didn’t complain. 

At hearing the end of the cries Cas walked into the living room and peered down at the both of them on the couch.

“What did you do?” Cas whispered.

“Let him bite me,” he replied back.

Cas shrugged, no doubt just happy the crying stopped, and walked back into the kitchen.

They were able to get through dinner with Dean asleep on Sam’s chest. Cas sat on the coffee table and – after scarfing down his own meal – fed Sam his own plate of food. Dean’s location became a problem when nine o’clock rolled around and Sam had to pee on top of the two older men growing tired and wanting to go to sleep.

In whispered tones they discussed their options for that night. Dean was going to begin crying the minute he or Cas went to move him. They were sure of it. And once awake they needed to change him and get a bottle in him before putting him down for bed. That’s where their next dilemma came in. 

Cas was all for sleeping with the baby monitor off. His reason being that Dean would be crying on and off all night and that there was nothing Cas would be able to do for him. Sam wanted the monitor on, just in case the little boy got sick and they needed to hear it.

They compromised by agreeing to leave it on, but lower the volume. 

His husband stood up from the coffee table and took a fortifying breath, he was about to move Dean from Sam’s chest and go through their nighttime ritual, and it was likely going to be accompanied with tears.

Sure enough once Cas’s hands were around Dean’s torso the little boy gave a half-hearted grumble before opening green eyes and making desperate whimpering sounds. His hands were soon back in his mouth and pulling at his ear.

The two men took care of Dean as best they could. Sam grabbed the boy’s bottle while Cas took him upstairs for a change. By the time Sam had Dean’s bottle warmed up – as cold milk never helped the boy to fall asleep – Cas had Dean changed into a new diaper and nothing else. Upon seeing Sam’s questioning eye Cas only sighed and shook his head, taking the proffered bottle as he sat back in the rocker and attempted to get Dean to suck.

Dean was still pulling at his ear, but allowed the hand in his mouth to make way for the rubber nipple. He took a few enthusiastic pulls – the boy had hardly eaten that day – before making a pained whine, releasing the bottle and turning away to hide in Cas’s chest. 

Sam leaned against the doorjamb and watched as Cas kept up his soothing touches, rubbing a strong thumb over Dean’s jaw to earn him another quickly aborted attempt at feeding.

After twenty minutes Cas looked up to Sam and mouthed “go to bed.”

Sam shook his head. If Cas was staying up then so was he. 

Another twenty minutes went by before Cas sighed and looked at Sam. “You look like shit,” he remarked, still rocking Dean who refused to sleep, eat, or let go of the rubber nipple in his mouth.

Sam’s lip quirked into a not entirely there smile. He stepped into the room, and pressed a kiss to Cas’s lips and Dean’s forehead before he took Cas’s advice and tried going to bed. 

He made the mistake of keeping the monitor on, ensuring Sam stayed awake for the next four hours as he listened to Cas’s struggle to get Dean to either eat, sleep or let go of the bottle. But he could tell that everything Cas did warranted negative responses from the little boy. 

It seemed all Dean wanted to do was stay awake in Cas’s arms, looking up into Cas’s blue eyes with his own green ones, and hold the rubber nipple in his mouth as he steadily chewed on it, but didn’t drink.

It was sometime between one AM and two that Sam – still alone in his bed – fell asleep.

*****

Wednesday was even worse. 

Sam woke up to find that Cas and Dean had fallen asleep in the rocker, though neither of them looked rested, even in sleep. Cas simply looked dead slumped over in the chair, and on top of Dean’s tight fists was his clenched jaw, which looked like he was grinding his gums together.

Sam got ready for work as quietly as he could. He made a plate of scrambled eggs and left them on a plate in the microwave with a sticky note on the outside of the door so that his husband would know that they were there. He dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster for Cas to toast when he came downstairs, and then made sure that there were two bottles for Dean in the fridge before he left for work.

He struggled throughout the day. It was difficult to keep his eyes open and Andrea was frequently opening the door to his office to shout out “Sam!” as he often didn’t hear or didn’t pay attention to her calls. 

Paying attention to the case folders in front of him was literally impossible and he often found himself falling into micro-naps as he rested his chin on his hands.

The end of the day found Sam forgetting his keys at his desk after he had walked all the way out to his car, and once he returned – grumbling loudly to himself but keys in hand – he felt his cell phone vibrate to find a single text from Cas. 

_Dinner._

He fortunately knew his husband well enough to know what he meant. 

Sam stopped at a drive through on the way home, uncaring of the fact that he was picking up fifteen dollars of grease for dinner. 

When he returned home and walked through the door into the house it was to find much of the same from the day before. 

Dean was still in just a diaper though instead of his highchair he was confined to the playpen, where the little screaming nightmare of a boy was lying on his back on the floor kicking into the open air and crying while his hands worked hard to try to tear the fabric of his beloved turtle.

Cas was lying on the couch with a wet face cloth over his eyes and a bottle of open ibuprofen on the end table. 

The two men ate dinner in silence and called it a night shortly after.

Thursday followed much of the same pattern. Sam, Cas and Dean all got little sleep. Dean refused to eat. He cried. Cas tried everything he could think of to calm the boy until Dean just demanded to be left alone in his playpen to cry. And Sam brought dinner home.

It was Friday when everyone reached their breaking points. Sam and Cas were positive that DCFS could have found a reason to take Dean away, as they were failing miserably at helping Dean feel any kind of comfort, in fact, they honestly felt like they were making everything worse. 

None of them had slept for any significant amount of time. The house was growing increasingly messy, as Cas couldn’t seem to figure out what to do during the day other than try to stop Dean’s crying and whimpering at the pain in his gums. Sam couldn’t believe he was still going in to work as he wouldn’t do anything in the office other than randomly click on emails and nap on his desk in the silence that the office space provided.

That evening he received no text reminder from Cas to pick up dinner and when Sam walked into the house with no food bags in hand the two men looked each other in the eye and just snapped.

“You didn’t get dinner?”  
“Why the hell didn’t you remind me?”

They started yelling at each other.

“I didn’t _remind you?_ ” Cas shrieked into the open air of the living room. “I can’t _think_ Sam! I’ve been at home all day trying to keep Dean comfortable while his gums. Rip. Open.” Cas enunciated the words with his jutting hands. “Sorry I didn’t find a time to text you to remind you to do something that I figured you would remember to do!” 

“Really?” Sam bellowed back. “Because being at the office all day is just _sooo wonderful!_ I’ve got to try and be human out there Cas. And at the end of the day I was too fucking tired to remember to stop at the drive through. So I’m sorry that this is ALL MY FAULT!” 

Sam was really able to make his voice ring if he wanted it to. And damnit did he want it to at that moment. In the silence of his echo though came the realization that Dean’s loud cries had stopped. Both men turned to look at the playpen where they stood, and after being frozen for a second they scurried over to the pen to find Dean’s face scrunched in aggravated sadness as opposed to pain.

Sam reached into the playpen and scooped Dean out before Cas could. Silent tears were streaming down the boy’s face and it was clear that he was upset that the two of them had been yelling. 

He held the little boy close and kissed his head. 

Sam went to turn to apologize to his husband but found the man walking out of the room, muttering something about running out to pick up some dinner as he grabbed his car keys and left.

That evening they ate their meal in silence and put Dean in his crib now that he seemed determined to suffer his pain without crying. 

Both men just felt like dicks.

Cas stayed on his side in bed, back facing him. And Sam stayed awake lying on his back, rubbing at the pressure in his temples that just didn’t seem to want to go away.

Some time around midnight he sighed and rolled over to pull Cas against his chest. He knew the older man was awake, and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, knowing that Cas would hear him in the eerie silence that had fallen over their home. 

Cas laced his fingers through Sam’s and squeezed his hand. “I called your mom,” he said simply. And Sam only nodded.

*****

Saturday morning Mary Wesson showed up bright and early. Fortunately the ringing doorbell at seven thirty came almost an hour after Dean’s morning cry and so the household was already awake. 

Cas was in the kitchen supervising Dean who was growly after his aborted attempt at a morning bottle while Sam was upstairs packing Dean’s diaper bag with plenty of essentials. 

The two men felt cowardly in their actions, but after Cas had hit the grandma button they also felt a little better with themselves. Guilty as all hell that they were effectively jumping ship and swimming towards the shore, but also a little relieved at the idea that they could survive the next thirty six hours.

They had also spent most of the morning effectively not making eye contact with the angry six month old in their midst. Dean was decidedly _Not. Happy._ with the fact that they were essentially dumping him off on Sam’s parents for all of Saturday, Saturday night and most of Sunday morning. But they were at a loss.

They couldn’t continue on without a break. Any of them. Cas and Sam needed sleep and Dean needed to be with someone who actually knew what the hell she was doing. So grandma to the rescue.

Cas answered the door for Mary and the woman’s presence was like a soothing balm over the tense mood in the house. 

“Hey Mary.”

“Cas,” the woman said, holding the vowel in his name before wrapping her arms around him in a supportive hug. She slipped her arms from him and cupped his cheeks with her hands. “How are you two holding up?” she asked all motherly in her tone.

“We’re doing okay,” Cas sighed, stepping back into the house and letting her follow. 

He could feel the woman sweeping her eyes over the living room that is usually well kept, but at the moment boasts take out containers that have yet to be thrown away dirty plates and cups. Half drank bottles from Dean that have been abandoned, and other pieces of baby paraphernalia were strewn about the room.

“Mhmm,” she remarked looking about the room, “I can see that.”

Cas couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. “Yeah, it’s been,” he blew air out through his lips in a big breath, “it’s been rough.”

His mother in law was smiling sweetly as she reached out to pat at his shoulder. “You’ll survive. Now, where my grand baby at?”

Cas pointed in the direction of the kitchen and followed after the woman.

“Well hello there cutiepie!” Mary announced, walking into the kitchen and smiling widely in her joy despite Dean’s obvious displeasure. 

The woman walked right up to Dean’s highchair and pulled him out though it was clear that Dean would have rather gone untouched. 

“I can tell that someone is going to be cranky today,” she said cuddling the little boy to her.

“He hasn’t been sleeping well, and we haven’t been able to get anything from him but tears,” Cas admitted.

Mary ‘hmmed’, while bouncing Dean and pressing kisses to his golden hair. “Well we’re just going to have to fix that aren’t we Dean?” Mary smiled looking into those glaring green eyes. “Goodness you’re just a spoon of vinegar this morning! Where’s Sam at?” Mary asked, as though the large six four man was hard to miss.

“Packing Dean’s things,” Cas answered as he watched Dean reluctantly accepting his situation. 

“Mmm,” Mary kept her lips to Dean’s head as she spoke, “I think as soon as Daddy comes down we’re going to say our goodbyes, and Dean is going to be shipped off to camp grandma.”

“Where’s Henry at this morning?” 

“Oh, he’s at the house working on one of his cars,” Mary rolled her eyes, “found another one of his darn rust buckets and has been in the garage since five o’clock.”

“This morning?”

“Last night. Slept on the damn couch out there,” she rolled her eyes. 

Cas laughed, but took notice of how Dean was paying attention to their conversation.

Before he could question Dean’s interest Sam came walking into the room carrying a back pack, diaper bag and duffle full of things that he was positive Dean was going to need over the next thirty six hours.

“Jesus Sam, how long are you planning on me keeping Dean for?” Mary asked taking in all of the supplies.

Sam looked between his mother’s face and the bags he was holding. “I only packed the essentials,” he replied a little dejectedly. 

She rolled her eyes but began walking toward the front door carrying Dean. “Where’s your car seat at?” she asked all business. 

“Here, I got it,” Cas answered. 

Cas installed the car seat in the back of Mary’s station wagon while Sam deposited Dean’s belongings in the trunk. Mary watched on, bouncing Dean as he whined while sucking on his fingers. When Cas stepped away she placed Dean in the seat and buckled him in. 

“Alright boys, say your goodbyes.”

Sam was first. Placing a kiss to Dean’s forehead and telling the boy he was going to have fun with grandma.

Cas then squatted down by the seat and looked into Dean’s grumpy green eyes. “I hope you aren’t too mad sweetheart, but your Daddy and I are a little over our heads with this one,” he reached out to hold onto Dean’s little hand. “We wish we knew how to make this a better experience for you, but Grandma is going to give us a hand. Okay?”

Dean’s pink lips were in a pout.

“You’re going to have a lot of fun with Grandma. And maybe Grandpa will bring you out into the garage and show you his cars, hmm?” 

Dean couldn’t hide the gleam in his eyes at that. 

Cas turned and spoke to Mary, “see if you can’t get Henry to show Dean his cars. I think Dean would like that.”

Mary nodded.

“Okay,” he said turning back to Dean, “Daddy and I love you very much, and we’ll be and Grandma’s tomorrow for brunch to pick you up.” With that he kissed Dean on his head and closed the door.

Mary didn’t linger much longer than that, and only a few minutes later Sam’s arms were around Cas’s waist and the two men were standing at the end of the driveway looking down the street where Mary’s car had long vanished.

“We’re the worst,” Sam whispered.

“I kind of hate myself,” Cas admitted.

“He’ll be okay,” Sam reassured him with a shrug. “Mom is going to be super grandma. He’s going to have to endure cookies, and pie. Maybe ice cream for dinner.”

“Henry’ll probably stick a whiskey covered finger in his mouth,” Cas piled on.

“Mom’s gonna tell him all kinds of stories.”

“Your _Dad’s_ gonna tell him all kinds of stories!”

The both laughed and turned to walk inside. Dean was going to be okay. They both knew it. Dean had become a lot more accepting in his position since coming home with them, and staying with his grandparents for the weekend was definitely going to show him that.

“You know,” Sam started to say once the front door was shut. “We haven’t been alone like this since we brought Dean home.”

Cas pressed his lips together in thought. “I think you’re right.”

“So, what do you think we should do until tomorrow morning?” Sam asked stepping up to him.

Cas wrinkled his nose as he considered the possibilities. “Should probably work on cleaning the house.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed throwing an arm around Cas’s neck.

“Get some laundry finished.”

“Totally.”

“Maybe finish the dishes.”

“Definitely.”

Cas looked up into his husband’s eyes. “Should probably get started soon,” he muttered.

“Mhmm.”

“Don’t have a lot of time to,” Cas let himself be interrupted by Sam’s sudden kiss. Heat started pooling low in his belly, and he reached up to tangle his fingers in his husband’s long hair. 

Sam moved to cup Cas’s face in his hands and kissed his husband for a few minutes longer before pulling away.

“I’m going to get everything ready upstairs, I’ll meet you there in five minutes,” Sam said, pressing a final kiss to his lips before rushing up the steps.

Cas smiled before rushing into the kitchen to grab the supplies, and ran upstairs to meet his husband in their room. He noticed that Sam took the time to strip down to his boxers and turned the bed down as he shifted through the CD case that was in the corner of the room. 

Sam turned to watch Cas as he assembled everything on the nightstand before hopping on the bed. Cas heard him chuckle before popping the CD and hitting play. Sam hummed in appreciation and he crawled on the bed and blanketed Cas with his body, pressing kisses to his collar bone and neck. 

Cas was smiling and laughing, pushing half-heartedly at Sam’s shoulders. “Sam stop!” Cas started giggling. “Sam c’mon.”

Sam smirked down at him before giving him one last kiss and rolling off onto his side as he burrowed under the covers. “Give me my bowl,” he demanded holding his hand out.

Cas reached over to the nightstand and grabbed Sam’s bowl of ice cream to hand it over. Sam’s bowl of ice cream was full of gummy bears and crushed up oreos, just like Sam liked it. While Cas’s was piled with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. 

“What are we watching?” Cas asked spooning some into his mouth. 

“Season three of friends,” Sam answered around the bite in his mouth. 

Cas hummed happily as he curled into the larger man’s side. 

Ice cream TV show marathons were things that they enjoyed doing, but hadn’t done since bringing Dean home. It wasn’t that they didn’t think that Dean wouldn’t enjoy ice cream and TV with the two of them; it was just – just that it was something that they did as a couple. Just the two of them. 

They managed to make it through two full episodes before Cas felt Sam’s rumbling snores behind him. Cas collected their empty bowls and deposited them on the nightstand before forcing Sam’s arm around him before allowing himself to fall asleep.

They managed to stay in bed the rest of the day, sleeping, eating, and watching TV…among other activities.

Sunday morning they woke up well rested and ready to head out to Sam’s parent’s house for brunch and to pick up Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope there weren't too many typos, I try to catch all of em but sometimes they just happen! 
> 
> I know not all babies are this bad while teething, but some of them can be pretty bad! I pieced together some horror stories that I've heard and used them to make Dean. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of the chapter. And thank you SO MUCH for all of the love you guys! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and don't worry, I'm going to take a step back next chapter and do things from Dean's POV.


	9. Dean's Grama and Granpa

Dean’s been shot before. Like, actually shot before. With a bullet. In the shoulder. 

It had been an accident, of course. He and his – well, he and John had been out hunting a werewolf when the werewolf had attacked Dean. John had been quick to pull the trigger, a little too quick, as the first silver bullet he shot was a straight through and through in Dean’s shoulder. 

It had taken another two bullets before John shot the damn thing.

Point is. Dean has experienced physical pain beyond belief. And teething was topping all of that.

Teething felt like someone was holding an icepick to Dean’s gums and was applying steady pressure to it twenty four hours a day. The sharp, aching pain made Dean pathetically tearful and he was crying constantly. 

Dean knew that his constant crying was making everyone upset. And God, it was awful. 

Sam and Cas, or – or as he now liked to think of them; Daddy and Papa, they were trying their best. And he could see that. The men that he allowed himself to think of now as his daddies were trying _so hard_ to make everything better, and it was with love in his heart that he could admit that they really sucked at this aspect of this whole parenting thing.

The teething rings were horrible. They tasted rubbery and plasticy and they were too hard on his gums. And, and when Papa kept pushing those on him he just go so mad! Papa didn’t understand that they didn’t help, but Dean did get a slight ping of gratification at being able to throw things off of his highchair. That was, until Papa stopped retrieving the various teething rings for him. 

Then Dean just went unsatisfied. 

He kept screaming at his Papa, but nothing made it better. 

Then Daddy came home, and while he had been excited to see him Daddy had picked him up, which moved his head around and made all of the nerves all along his jaw and over to his ears hurt. 

He just wanted the pain to stop.

Then came that awful night when Daddy and Papa had just screamed at each other. Dean had never felt like a bigger piece of shit in his life. His constant tears had made his daddies angry enough to yell at each other. They were so mad, and Daddy’s voice had gotten so loud that it had actually scared him. 

Dean did his best to not cry after that, but both men were determined to try to snuggle him and apologize for yelling. Dean just shook his head until Papa put him to bed where he resolved to not cry out loud, and spent the night snuffling and wiping his face on his cowboy sheets. 

He just wanted to be a good boy.

The next morning at breakfast Papa explained to him how they had called Daddy’s Mom – he’d heard her name was Mary – and that she was coming to pick him up.

The traitors!

You can’t tap out of parenthood like that! That’s not how it works! 

They were supposed to hug him and hold him and comfort him and do all of the other annoying Papa and Daddy things that they did that he loved. Dean knew it wasn’t out of anger that had Daddy packing his bags that morning; it had been sheer desperation and needing help. 

Dean would have been satisfied with being cuddled while he cried, but he almost understood their choice more. It was tough for Dean to admit when he didn’t know the right answer to a question, or the proper solution to a problem. He was too proud to think that he could encounter something in his life that he would need assistance with. So he was extremely awed by his daddies for having enough humility to admit when they needed a hand. 

It was a quality Dean had never seen in John. 

So could he really be _that_ mad at them for calling in Dean’s ‘grandma’? No. But they didn’t need to know that. 

As he was strapped into the back of an _atrocious_ station wagon Dean solidified his resolve to give his daddies the cold shoulder when they returned to pick him up the next morning.

It would serve them right. 

However, Sunday morning when Sam and Cas showed up he was in too good of a mood to think about his grudge holding; he could only smile and shriek their names out loud in his happiness to see them again, and baby-babble aside, decided to tell them all about his weekend.

The two men had never looked happier while not understanding a damn thing he had to say.

*****

“How long do you think you’re gonna hold that pout for?” he heard Mary say as she looked in the rearview mirror.

Her comment had him fortifying his facial muscles to ensure that he held his frown in place.

This woman kept patronizing him when all he could think about was how ridiculous Papa and Daddy were being; sending him away when he thought they were doing a fine job on their own. Or, if not _fine_ then at least they were keeping Dean alive. 

Mary made an inquisitive noise in the front seat and turned up the music she had playing on the radio. It was an old country ballad that had Dean sighing and rolling his eyes. Did any member of his new family listen to good music?

His ‘grandmother’ didn’t try pushing any more questions as she drove the two of them back to her house. 

Dean sat placidly in his car seat as Mary pulled into the driveway of a large two story house that looked like it sat on a few acres. After Mary parked the car and started unbuckling Dean from his car seat he started kicking his feet and squirming away from the too small bony hands that were moving between his legs to get at the buckles holding him in. 

He felt a week’s worth of poor sleep and lingering, increasing frustration at his continued teething pain kick in as he started keening in high pitches frequencies as Mary removed him from the car. 

“Oh, I know honey. You’re just an unhappy little boy today aren’t you?” Mary cooed as she walked up the front steps to the house.

Dean latched onto the woman’s wavy blonde hair. He had learned with Sam that sometimes pulling hair got things his way, but Mary’s hair was currently in a pony and no matter how hard Dean seemed to tug he wasn’t able to do enough damage to get the woman to put him down. 

He sniffled and turned to look around as Mary brought him into a kitchen; though this one wasn’t as clean and new as his daddies’. This one was smaller with a table in the middle that Mary had to maneuver around before she dropped Dean down into an older looking highchair that sat facing the table. 

Dean listened to Mary humming quietly to herself as she went about the kitchen behind him. She was opening and closing drawers along with the fridge while he rubbed along his jaw. His daddies pawned him off on the woman; the least she could do was figure out some way to make him feel better.

Just as he was thinking it Mary sat down after plucking Dean out of the chair and sitting him at the edge of the table. “Alright, let’s try something here honey,” she murmured as she gripped Dean’s chin with her thumb and forefinger before propping his lips open with her other hand. 

Dean didn’t know what the woman thought she was doing and he didn’t really care for it. He whined and kicked out at her while grabbing onto her wrists with his useless fingers. 

“Uhn!” 

“I know hon, just sit still and Grandma will make things better.”

Despite Dean’s squirming Mary was able to get two fingers in his mouth, at which point she started massaging his gums. The last time she had put a finger in Dean’s mouth had been at the party, and he had been so startled at the woman’s finger in his mouth that he chomped down on it. It had been a half accident that he had bit the woman, mostly because she had freaked him out, and he had kind of wanted her to let go. 

But Dean’s fight quickly drained out of him this time around. 

Her fingers were soft and warm and knew just where to push on Dean’s sore gums to make him feel better, and soon instead of using his hands to push her away he was holding onto her wrist and pulling her closer.

“Does that feel better?”

Dean hummed happily and kicked out his feet. 

“I figured it would,” she chuckled before pulling her hand away, to which Dean made an unhappy noise. 

“Here Dean, why don’t you suck on one of these?” Mary said holding up what looked like a slice of orange tied into a piece of cheesecloth. 

Dean looked at the object unconvinced, but opened his mouth when she prodded him. To his surprise it actually felt kind of good. The orange was soft and cool on his gums and the taste of the orange was released into his mouth every time he gummed at the slice.

He felt himself smiling for the first time all week; maybe his new Grandma wasn’t so bad after all.

Mary chuckled as she stood up with him on her hip, she allowed him to take over holding the cheese cloth as he sucked on the orange slice. He wasn’t paying too much attention to where she was taking him, but before he knew it Mary was dropping him off into the lap of the man who he undoubtedly recognized as his new grandpa.

“Hold him Henry,” Mary spoke as she let Dean down onto the guy’s lap. “I need to run out and get his things.”

“You got it,” the gruff man answered.

Dean looked up at the man with wide eyes while slowly sucking at his orange slice, but the older gentleman merely bounced Dean on his legs a few times before turning his attention back to the television set he was watching. 

Dean looked around the room they were sitting in. The furniture and wall decorations all pointed to signs of a home well lived in. There was a difference to it than the lived in feel of his house back with Papa and Daddy. Back at home the house was modern and lived in. Showing the signs of a young married couple with a baby in the house. 

This home showed the signs of generations of family living there. He could tell that it was the home that Sam grew up in from the signs of old school, and family pictures on the walls that looked like they hadn’t been removed from the nail they were hanging on since before Dean had been born. 

The floral patterned wallpaper and aged carpet suggested that a remodel hadn’t been done since the mid-eighties and that the carpet had been walked over with many sets of feet over the years. 

He heard the man whose lap he was sitting on grunt as he changed the channel on the TV before he relaxed back further and tugged Dean closer on his lap.

Dean took a moment to study the old man he was sitting with. Behind the scruffy beard he could see a weather worn face and deep-set laugh lines which suggested a long and happy life that the man had lived. The brown eyes which were a little milky with age flickered as they watched the TV screen. 

Though he still wasn’t happy being with the man – and he still couldn’t exactly pinpoint why – he figured that as long as he only wet his diaper when Mary was around that he would be okay.

Dean couldn’t help himself from leaning back onto the warm chest of the older man and grabbing his foot in one hand while holding the orange in the cloth to his mouth in the other. 

Mary came back into the room and smiled down at him. 

“He okay?”

“Yeah, just sitting here chewing on his --,” Henry pulled the cheesecloth away from Dean’s mouth to gage the fruit he was sucking on, “orange and playing with his feet.”

“Alright, I’m going to go work in the kitchen for a bit, keep an eye on him.”

“Yeah, got it,” the older man grumbled as he rubbed at Dean’s tummy.

The two of them went back to watching the show, which was some reality show about rednecks who make illegal liquor as far as Dean could tell. 

It was hardly riveting television, but the fact that Dean’s gums had stopped hurting for the first time in weeks had him struggling to keep his eyes open. His head was bobbing as he gummed his orange, and pretty soon he found himself snuggled up to Henry’s chest as he drooled onto his half-eaten orange. 

He was only conscious for another moment longer to recognize the smell of old spice before he fell asleep. 

*****

Dean awoke from his nap ravenous for the first time all week. Henry dropped Dean off into the highchair with Mary after a few hours of napping on the guy’s chest and replaced the drained orange slice in his cheese cloth with a cold apple slice from the fridge. 

He happily gummed the slice after frowning at Henry’s kiss on his forehead as the man stepped out the back door. 

“We’re having meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner Dean,” Mary said conversationally as she walked about the kitchen prepping various food items and Dean watched with mild fascination. “But how about we eat some lunch hmm?”

She heated up a hotdog for him and cut it into tiny bite-size pieces for him before putting the plate in front of him on his highchair. He gladly disregarded the shielded apple slice in favor of foods that had a more substantial impact on his rumbling tummy.

Dean fed himself piece after piece and actually found himself smiling at Mary as she waltzed about the kitchen. _Literally_ waltzed about the kitchen. 

She turned an old radio on the counter to a country station and sashayed her hips as she walked back and forth from the counter, fridge and pantry. 

It took a few minutes for Dean to figure out that Mary was baking cookies and then he got really excited at the prospect of food coming out of the woman’s kitchen. She came over at one point and fed him a taste of raw cookie dough off the tip of her finger. Dean hummed happily.

Okay, so maybe this chick wasn’t so bad.

She soon cut up a banana for him and brought over a spoon that he saw her take out of the refrigerator. He was excited about the banana, but the spoon he was a little confused on until Mary prompted him into opening his mouth and she pressed the cool metal to his gums. The relief it brought him was actually quite surprising. 

He finished up watching Mary bake while intermittently sucking on his spoon and eating banana slices.

Once Mary’s counters were filled with cookies she finally tugged off her floury apron and sat down with her own lunch of a plain sandwich while feeding Dean small bites of a cooled off cookie. 

After lunch was through Dean felt great. He’d finally had a restful sleep, had a full belly and his gums didn’t feel like they were being pounded with sharp nails. This lady was good.

“Okay,” she said conversationally standing up and depositing their plates in the sink. “Let’s check your diaper and then we’ll go see what Grandpa Henry is up to.”

Dean pouted at that, and knowing his increasing tendency to just let his bladder go whenever it felt too full for comfort decided that he was better off forcing himself to go before ‘Grandpa Henry’ got his hands on him. Dean could handle a lot of people touching his junk, but not that man.

As Mary rinsed the dishes off Dean forced himself into going so that he ensured his diaper went changed by Mary and Mary alone. 

A proper changing table was the one thing that they apparently did not have in the house, as Mary stripped Dean naked on the floor in the living room, and Dean was able to feel the soft, worn carpet on his palms when he spread his arms out. 

Once his wet diaper was pulled from underneath his bottom and all remains of urine was wiped away Mary scooted herself a little closer and pulled a phone out of her pocket. She was cooing at him to garner some smiles, and started snapping pictures of him in the nude. 

He didn’t really know what she was doing, but her bubbly laugh put him at ease and he went along with it.

Dean was still on his back when Mary stepped over him and laid down on the floor herself, a few feet from the top of Dean’s head. 

“C’mere Dean! C’mon, roll over and crawl over here!” she said in her honey sweet voice. Dean wasn’t a stranger to crawling, it was his main mode of transportation, but Sam and Cas had made him used to being carried around places; so it took a little bit of work to maneuver his arms and legs into turning him around.

Once he was right side up he looked up at Mary to see her wide smile behind her phone as she snapped away at the camera. Dean pushed himself up and crawled over to her in all of his naked glory. 

Mary was giggling and prompting him on as he crawled and soon he was face to face with his new Grandma who pressed her forehead to his and kissed his nose before she scooped him up and redressed him.

After that it was back on his Grandma’s hip as she carried him out the back door. The property that their house sat on was large, and the view of the house from the road was enough to block the large metal barn that stood behind the house. If Dean had to guess he’d venture to say that half a dozen cars could fit in the building. And that was on top of the ones he could see covered in tarps behind the building where a roofed section stood. 

She walked them into an opened garage door on the side of the building and Dean was transported to a place that he had often dreamed of. 

Henry’s garage was the kind that came into being only after a person had been living in and working in the space for a long period of time. Thirty plus years at least with the amount of clutter taking up the walls and free surfaces. There were three cars in the space, well, three _whole_ cars. Two of which were covered in tarps. 

The one uncovered whole car was a vintage ’57 Ford truck that stood out against the shop lights with the obvious wax job it had just received. The car that was in pieces looked to be a ’55 turquoise Chevy Bel-Air, and from the beach sand tan bench seats that he saw off to the side of the car he could tell that Henry was reaching the conclusion of the renovation. 

A large workbench took up the wall of the back of the shop, with large wooden shelves that reached from wall to wall, and floor to ceiling. An ancient looking stereo system took up a few of the shelves, though it was off for now. 

Henry himself was sitting in a metal stool at the work bench, and looked to be sipping at two fingers of amber liquid in a glass tumbler while tinkering with greasy engine parts that Dean could barely recognize.

Mary stopped behind the man and pressed a kiss to his head in greeting before dropping Dean into his lap. 

He was a little startled to be in the man’s arms again, but as Mary hadn’t left yet he was still doing okay. 

He heard Henry start chuckling in his gruff tone and Dean looked up to see Mary taking more pictures of Dean; this time with him in his Grandpa’s lap. 

“You gonna do ‘em all?” the man asked.

“If I can,” Mary replied.

She snapped a few more before asking Henry to get him to hold something, and seeing as Dean no longer felt the need to suck on his fingers he actually had a hand free to hold onto the socket wrench the man was holding out to him. 

The tool was heavy and familiar in Dean’s hand and he hummed in content happiness. Though he didn’t possess the strength to work on cars anymore it was still nice to get the chance to hold a tool like that. 

The two older people with him laughed at Dean’s obvious pleasure and he had no qualms with smiling up at the phone that he knew was taking pictures of him. 

After the pictures at the workbench Henry piled into the Ford truck with him and allowed Dean to stand on his thighs as Dean gripped at the steering wheel. The feel of the antique leather stitched artfully together under his delicate chubby fingers was one that he never thought he would have the luxury of feeling. 

Once Mary was finished with her impromptu photo shoot she left Dean behind, where he was alone with Grandpa Henry. 

Dean still wasn’t sure why, but he felt uneasy around the man. True, he did have a hobby that piqued the interest of Dean’s adult mindset, but it didn’t seem enough to out-weigh something about the man. 

After Mary walked off, saying something about cleaning, Henry propped Dean up on the new bench seat for the Chevy and sat down in a beat up looking recliner nearby as he started pulling out tools from his tool box to be cleaned off with the blue heavy duty shop towels he had.

“You know,” he started saying with a relaxing sigh, “when your Daddy was little he’d sit out here in the shop with me. Both of my boys grew up out here. Tom always was the one to be elbow deep in an engine with me, but your Daddy was always curled up somewhere, usually in my recliner or sitting inside a spare tire, and he’d be reading books about cars. Restoration books that people usually need but never use.”

The man chuckled as he replaced the pliers he had been wiping down. “I had always been pretty good at fixing up cars. Grew up in the Army, working on cars and tanks until I was able to retire with an honorable discharge and decided to go into the business.”

Dean absently grabbed onto his left foot and held it closer to his chest as he watched and listened to his Grandpa Henry talk. It was interesting listening to the man. He spoke as if Dean were older, but also in a manner that suggested Dean wasn’t old enough to comprehend what he was saying.

It was a strange mix. As Dean felt part of the conversation more so than when people talked to him, and yet like he was listening to secrets. 

“So I’ve worked on all sorts a cars. But your Daddy and all of his reading was able to offer me a lot of tips on working on cars. He’s got that useful kinda smart to him; the kind that has applications to the real world as opposed to most people whose smarts are only ever useful in a classroom. But then again,” and Dean heard the springs relax and compress as Henry bent over to look at him, “you knew that about your Daddy huh?”

Henry sat back and sighed as he reached over to the work bench where his drink sat. He took a sip and stared at the liquid with curious eyes before he reached out and scooped Dean off the bench. “Your daddies and Mary would pop me one if they knew I was doing this, so we’ll just keep this our secret,” he said as he held the glass to Dean’s mouth. 

Dean instinctively popped his lips open and accepted the amber liquid that just barely reached his tongue. Henry tilted the glass so slightly that Dean didn’t get enough whiskey to coat his lips. And he knew it was whiskey, he couldn’t have grown up under John and _not_ know his liquors. 

Still, knowing the taste and being prepared for the burn were two different things, and he spluttered and coughed once Henry pulled the glass away.

“Good huh?” the gruff man asked patting at Dean’s back as he took his own sip.

Dean hummed in agreement and looked at the amber liquid again.

“Oh no, don’t you go giving me those baby doll eyes, Dean. I ain’t giving you any more than that until you can hold your own glass.” He took another sip. “This is a special occasion though, seeing as it’s the first time my youngest son’s own son is staying the night.”

Henry chuckled and sat back further in his chair with a sigh.

“We’ve been waiting on you for a long time Dean. Long time.”

*****

They stayed out in the garage long enough for Mary to finish cooking dinner; meatloaf and mashed potatoes. And Henry carried a smiling Dean back into the house to be fed another delicious homemade meal – this time by his Grandma. 

Dinner went by quick, as Dean’s hunger won out over squirming around in his highchair like he usually did. 

Mary’s mashed potatoes were simply _heavenly_ and Dean was constantly kicking his feet out and humming happily at the food he was able to get into his mouth.

“I must say I am impressed Dean,” Mary mentioned off-handedly as she cut up her own meatloaf. “You are quite the advanced little boy.”

Dean looked from the woman back down at the mess on his highchair tray. Mashed potatoes and crumbled bits of meatloaf were everywhere. He also could feel the distinct weight of mashed potatoes lodged in his hair. How he always got some up there he would never know…

He didn’t exactly understand how his messiness translated into advancedness. 

“He’s Sammy’s boy,” Henry offered as explanation.

“I know, but still, look at him,” Mary said waving a hand in his direction. “Six months and he’s feeding himself so well.”

Dean beamed at that praise, especially since it was coming from someone other than his daddies.

“All kids are different,” Henry said sounding unimpressed, but then surprising Dean with a “but he is one smart little stinker.”

God, this family was wonderful.

After dinner came another diaper change at the hands of Mary, though Henry was able to look on as he was sitting in his recliner and Mary once again changed him in the living room. This house was without a playpen and so once Mary had him changed into a pair of pajamas Dean was left to roam about the living room while Mary cleaned the kitchen.

None of his toys were out yet, and even if they were Dean probably would have ignored them in favor of playing with how flexible he seemed in this tiny little body. He lay on his back in the middle of the floor and grabbed his left foot with his right hand. With little exertion he was able to pull his foot up to his mouth and wiggle it around. 

Dean contented himself with laughing at the simple abilities his tiny little body possessed and rolling around the middle of the floor as Henry watched on. In his nineteen year old body Dean was very lean and athletic. Able to scale damn near anything that John required him to and strong enough to hold his own against all supernatural creatures that they had come up against. But he had _never_ been this flexible before. 

Not that the ability to bring his feet up to his face so easily was of any use… well, not unless he needed to get to a knife in his boot and all he had to use was his teeth. But still, he was giggling in footie pajamas while playing with his toes, and rolling around on the carpet. Life was pretty simple. And he loved it.

He heard the leather of Henry’s recliner creaking and Dean angled his head – but didn’t release his foot – to watch as the man reached behind his chair and pulled out a wooden box that he pushed into view. 

“Why don’t you play with these squirt,” he huffed bringing the box to Dean’s attention. 

Dean hummed as he released his foot to roll over and crawl to the box Henry had pulled out.

Inside were the old school toys that kids played with decades ago. Those toys didn’t hold much appeal to him, but what did was the blue rubber ball that sat atop the wooden box of treasures. Dean grabbed onto the ball and sat down on his diapered bottom, pulling the ball out with him.

He laid back and flung the ball behind him, tilting his head and watching the ball bounce about the furniture in the family room. After it came to a stop Dean quickly rolled over and crawled after it to whack it and make it bounce around again. Though it was silly and downright childish, his fun improvised game made him think of all of the training and conditioning John had put him through over the years and he supposed that given his physical limitations that tossing a rubber ball about the room and crawling after it could _kind of_ be considered training. 

Just as Dean was hurriedly crawling after the rubber ball where it had come to a stop in front of Henry’s legs the older man shifted forward to pick Dean up at his sides and hover him over the ball. Dean felt his body freeze up like that time Papa threw him into the air, but Henry only had him in the air for a second before he was settling him on top of the blue ball. 

Dean couldn’t help the surprised “Ooo,” that fell out of his mouth as Henry helped to stabilized on the round surface. He put his arms out and let himself be put tummy down on top of it. As soon as Dean felt himself balanced on the surface Henry let go and Dean squealed as the ball rocked forward.

Henry saved him by tugging his feet backward. 

“Try rolling around,” the man suggested.

So Dean gave it a shot. Just like in his jumper his feet could reach the floor, so he gave a little kick and the ball surged forward, and once again right when Dean was about to fall into the carpet Henry snagged his pajamas and pulled him back.

Dean found his new game.

For the next, well, it was probably an hour, Dean would pump his little legs and roll forward on the ball so that Henry had to grab him and pull him back down. He had gotten into the habit of humming whenever he was content, and the small noise didn’t go unnoticed as he heard Henry chuckle at one point and say “purring like a cat.” 

When Dean’s body was getting tired from his playing Mary walked into the living room sporting a burp cloth over her shoulder and wielding a bottle of milk. At the realization that his night time bottle was about to be fed to him he slid off the ball and held his arms out to Mary.

The woman smiled as she bent down to pick him up, pressing kisses into his hair as she sat down in her own chair. She reclined Dean in the crook of her elbow and he willingly went; opening his lips in anticipation of the yummy warm milk that had helped him to fall asleep all of these weeks. 

Mary popped the rubber nipple into his mouth and Dean started sucking down in earnest. He hadn’t sat down without fussing about a bottle since his teething started and it was a nice change to be able to lay back and drink his milk like he enjoyed. 

Mary was humming something as he looked up at her, and while it sounded familiar he couldn’t place a finger on what song she was humming, but the familiar sound was enough to make him comfortable enough to fall asleep. 

*****

Sunday morning rolled around to find Dean well rested and entertained as he fed himself a small bowl of oatmeal while Henry told him stories sitting at the kitchen table peeling potatoes for the brunch Mary was preparing.

Henry was talking about something inconsequential. A silly story about how Sam went through a phase when he was two and refused to wear his shoes, going so far as to yank them off and throw them whenever they were in public.

“One day, huh, and _one_ day, I got so mad at your Daddy that I put his shoes on him and I duct taped those suckers to his feet!” 

Dean giggled at the story as well as the way Henry was speaking. For not smoking the guy sure had a grizzly enough voice that Dean would have thought he did. 

Henry dropped the potato he was holding to use Dean’s bib to wipe his face which he allowed, as he was actually growing annoyed with the glob of oatmeal sticking to his chin.

When the older man sat back in his chair he checked his watch and mentioned to Dean that “your daddies should be getting here pretty soon.”

“Ah-Dah?” Dean asked happily.

“Yep, Papa and Daddy,” Henry nodded as he went back to peeling potatoes. 

Dean went back to eating his oatmeal and watching Henry and Mary work. Only a few minutes passed until Dean heard the sound of the front door opening followed by the sound of Sam calling out to them.

“Mom, Dad, Dean?”

Dean started squealing and in his excitement flung the spoon that he had loaded with oatmeal which landed across Henry’s face. The old man spluttered and jerked his head as he reached for one of Dean’s burp cloths to wipe his face off. 

Sam came into the kitchen followed by Cas and Dean quickly dropped his spoon to throw his hands up as Sam scooped him up and pressed kisses to his face. His daddies both seemed much happier and less tired than they did the day before, and Dean understood just how much the three of them all needed the break. 

Dean noticed all of this as Sam finished his round of kisses and turned him over to Cas so he could greet his parents. 

Papa gave him a big kiss on the nose and Dean grabbed onto the man’s ears as he giggled and shrieked out an “Ah!” as the man cuddled him close.

“We’ve gotta get him to work on his ‘Ps’”, Sam said behind them. 

To which Cas just snorted and rolled his eyes. “And lose the unique name that our son has dubbed me with? I don’t think so.”

Cas settled Dean onto his hip and sat down at the table with him, grabbing Dean’s bowl of oatmeal and his spoon in the process. 

“Well you’re looking much better Dean. What did Grandma do to you huh?”

Dean opened his mouth to accept the spoon of oatmeal, but that didn’t stop him from answering his Papa’s question. 

“She massaged my gums which felt great. And she gave me fruit in this cheesecloth which was really tasty and felt cool. She also gave me this cold spoon. And Grandpa Henry took me out to see his cars, which were really cool. And he told me a bunch of stories about when Daddy was little and he made me feel really happy, even though he’s kinda scary. But its okay I guess, cause he likes cars too. But mostly I just missed you guys, cause Grandma Mary cooks really nice, but it wasn’t the same as being with you guys.”

Dean answered Cas’s question with enthusiasm regardless of the fact that he was eating, knowing that no one would be able to make any sense of his baby babble anyways. 

Cas and Sam just looked on with wide dorky grins on their faces which reached their eyes. His daddies looked really happy to hear from him.

Once Dean was finished relating his day Mary stepped in and said basically everything that Dean had said. 

“Fruit in cheese cloth?” Cas asked when Mary told him what he had given Dean to chew and suck on. “I never would have thought of that. Those have gotta taste better than those plastic teething rings.”

“They do!” Dean chirped from his chair – and both men turned smiling faces to look at him.

“Mhmm,” Mary responded as she brought over what looked like pancake batter for Sam to mix up. “It’s what I gave to Sam and Tom when they were teething. It helped bring their appetites back around.”

“I was about to say,” Cas said as he dipped the spoon back into Dean’s bowl of oatmeal, “that Dean sure seems hungrier now than he did the other day.”

“Definitely,” Sam agreed.

“Yeah, he sure was chowing down on the food yesterday too,” Mary said as she came back to claim the pancake mix from Sam. “He had a whole hot dog at lunch and half a banana.”

“Really?” his daddies asked together.

The grown-ups – and when Dean had started thinking of them as such he had no clue – kept talking about random things Dean had done the day before, and he was steadily growing used to the fact that his bodily functions, and the things that he put into his mouth was a topic for riveting conversation to his daddies. 

They all seemed fascinated at the moment with the fact that Dean had yet to poop that weekend. 

“Not once?” Sam was asking as he was grating up the potatoes that his Dad had peeled.

“Nope.”

“I don’t think he went on Friday either,” Cas said as he held out another scoop of oatmeal for him.

“I wouldn’t be too worried boys,” Henry said putting down his final potato, “if he hasn’t been eating he won’t be pooping. I’ll bet you anything that he takes a crap before he leaves here with how much we’ve been able to shove into him.”

Cas and Sam laughed at that. 

Pretty soon Dean’s oatmeal was gone – though not his appetite – and he was able to watch brunch come together from the comfort of his Papa’s lap. 

Eggs, toast, sausage, biscuits and gravy, hash browns, and pancakes. All along with milk, orange juice and coffee. 

Dean couldn’t help himself from leaning forward and licking his lips with a happy anticipatory hum.

He heard the chuckles that his actions garnered him, but readily ignored it as Cas filled Dean’s plastic little plate with the tiniest portions of each. With the bowl – small as it was – of oatmeal it was going to be a miracle if he was able to eat everything that his Papa put on the plate, but he was happy that the man was giving him the chance to thoroughly stuff himself. 

Once the table was set Papa put him back in the highchair and handed Dean his rubber fork so that he could feed himself. 

“Hey Cas,” Sam said from the other side of the table, “why don’t you take his onesie off? He’s gonna be real messy with that gravy.”

Cas huffed and waved the man off. “Let him get messy.”

Dean saw Sam shrug before he went back to trying to feed himself.

True to his Daddy’s guess Dean’s onesie became smothered in bits of egg, sausage and gravy – they didn’t even let him have syrup on his pancakes – and he was perfectly okay with Papa unsnapping his onesie and yanking it over his head before wiping down his chest where the gravy had soaked through.

After everyone’s plate was clean – including a majority of Dean’s – they retired to the living room with their coffee cups in hand and Dean was back on the floor with the rubber blue ball he had spent so much time rolling around on the night before. This time Daddy was on the floor with him and Dean was able to sit down and smack the ball into the taller man’s direction so that it could be rolled back to him. 

The grownups were talking about boring adult stuff that Dean didn’t have to worry about, but he was able to pick up on a few things that he hadn’t known – paid attention to? – before. Like the fact that Daddy was a lawyer and owned a firm with a friend from college. Or that Papa used to work as a graphic designer until a year ago when he quit helping make it easier for them to be compatible for adoption, but that he was considering taking up a few freelance jobs once things had settled down with Dean being at home. 

They kept talking even after Dean had grown tired. His Daddy was still sitting on the ground, leaning against the couch that Papa was sitting on, so Dean crawled forward until he was able to pull himself into Daddy’s lap. Sam’s large hands helped him in his quest to curl up in the divot of Sam’s crossed legs, and soon Dean was snuggled up among Sam’s thighs; comfortable as he looked up at his Daddy’s chin as the man talked.

Dean could tell that nap time was approaching upon them, as he was struggling to remain awake. He was humming to himself like he usually did, and kicked out at the open air to feel his legs drop down to Sam’s thigh. 

His Daddy reached up and offered Dean his hand, and Dean gladly fisted Sam’s forefinger in his hand to wave around as he worked to keep himself awake.

He felt time slipping away from him, and soon enough his Daddy was picking him up and handing him to Papa who snuggled him close as Daddy and Grandma Mary walked out of the room to pack his things according to the snippets of conversation he heard.

Papa held him close to his chest and ran his wide hand up and down his back while Dean threw his arms over Cas’s neck. Papa and Grandpa Henry were talking quietly now, probably thinking that he was falling asleep, so Dean spoke up to let them know he was awake. 

Papa chuckled at Dean’s babbling and pressed a kiss to his temple. “So chatty huh?”

Daddy must have come back a short time later as he felt Papa stand up and walk across the living room. “You ready to go?” he heard Daddy ask him.

Dean whined and nodded his head. He was getting sleepy now, and he just wanted to be put in his car seat so he could fall asleep. 

“Can you wave good bye to Grandma and Grandpa?” Papa murmured into his ear as he pulled his hand from his chest and waved it for him. The only action Dean could add to the transaction was a large yawn and a few lips smacks.

Mary cooed over him and kissed his head a few times, and Henry patted his bottom a few times and kissed the back of his head before his Papa bent over and put him in his car seat and started buckling him in. 

Dean took that as his permission to close his eyes and wiggle into a comfortable position as he gladly put himself down for a nap, confident that when he woke up he would be home and his daddies would be better prepared to help him through his teething woes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed the update. I love hearing from ya'll, praise, constructive or otherwise. 
> 
> I will admit that I'm running low on suggestions from you guys, so if there's something that you'd like to see happen in the story please let me know and I will do my best to accommodate. (No, seriously, send me suggestions, they're the reason I'm able to update so quickly! And I know how much you all love that!)
> 
> For this chapter I'd like to give an unofficial shout-out to my own Grandpa, who owns both the Ford and the Chevy that I talked about in this chapter (and I have less than zero clue about how cars work, which is why Grandpa Henry was only cleaning tools!)
> 
> Thanks guys, you rock!


	10. Let's Change the Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me when I'd post my next update, I said Valentine's day. But that was before I had a day completely void of any responsibilities. So enjoy what I spent all day slaving over! (Not really, this story is a labor of love!)
> 
> This chapter isn't too plot heavy, but it sets up things for the next chapter.
> 
> Oh, and if there are any glaring mistakes in here I apologize, sometimes I get to excited about posting to actually look anything over....

Dean woke up to a racing heart and quick, shallow breaths. He gave himself about two seconds to collect himself before allowing himself to cry. 

Only a short moment passed before Cas came stumbling into the room, but it’s long enough for Dean to detangle himself from his pile of blankets and work on getting closer to his Papa _now_ while he’s crying and scared.

“Wha’s wrong baby?” Cas asks scooping him up and holding him close.

Dean responds with a sob and promptly throws his arms around Cas’ neck, using the man’s hair at the back of his head as a hand-hold to ensure that Dean can burrow as close as possible.

“Dean?” the concern and fear is evident in the man’s voice as Dean continues to cling and cry. 

“Scary dream Papa,” is Dean’s reply. Though a jumble of sounds and an ‘Ah’ are all Cas get out of it.

“You scared De?” Cas asks, his daddy powers kicking in as he interprets Dean’s actions.

Dean responds by nodding his head where it’s tucked under the man’s chin, and kicking out at the man’s chest, thinking that his feet will find purchase and he’ll somehow end up _closer_ to the man he’s latched on to. 

Cas coos and wraps big, warm, protective arms around Dean’s tiny body. The pressure feels reassuring and Dean allows his loud sobs to taper into soft tears. 

His Papa turns around and Dean can feel as they are both lowered into the rocking chair before the tell-tale creaking begins, and the steady motion starts up to sooth him. Dean’s eyes are closed, and even if they weren’t he wouldn’t be able to see what was going on as his face is pushed into Papa’s chest, but he could feel as Cas reached over to dig through something. 

It isn’t until he feels soft rubber prod his lips does he realize that the man had retrieved one of his pacifiers. Dean opens his lips and starts sucking immediately. The action forces an instant calm over his tears. 

“Do you not like storms sweetheart?”

Storms?

Dean pushes away from the man’s chest to look up at him with drawn eyebrows. He shakes his head and – _oh_ – now he could hear the rain hitting the roof. Some thunder rumbled off in the distance and he realized that one of the mid-west’s lovely summer storms had hit. 

Dean shakes his head again. No. Summer storms were awesome. He had loved sitting out in the Impala with… he’s suddenly reminded of his dream and starts crying all over again. He frowns behind the plastic of his pacifier and drops his forehead to Cas’ collarbone.

“Not the storm?” Cas says confused, “well then what?... oh, _oh_ did you have a bad dream?”

Cas’s vocalization makes Dean sob out again and he vigorously nods his head, because _yes!_ he had in fact had a very, _very_ bad dream, and he wanted to hold his Papa tight and feel safe again.

He felt Cas pull him in closer and press kisses to the top of his head, “you’re okay sweetheart. It’s okay Dean,” he kept saying into his hair, and Dean was desperate to believe him.

He wasn’t sure if his strong emotional response to his dream was the fact that he had had some practice while in a childish mindset, or if it was the nature of the dream itself, but Dean was thoroughly scared.

His dream had been about John. Not scary in itself. He’d had multiple dreams about his – about John since being with Papa and Daddy. They were often dreams that his subconscious had cooked up concerning his thoughts on what the man was doing, as he was now going to be a one man crew for at least another ten months. 

But no. This dream had been different. _Way_ different. 

In this dream John had somehow tracked Dean down. He wasn’t sure how. Perhaps he had located the witch and she had spilt the beans on where Dean was, or who had him, either way, all of a sudden _John_ had appeared at the door and demanded that Papa and Daddy hand him over. 

Of course they hadn’t, they had immediately set about arguing with John on how they most certainly would not hand their son over, as Dean was _theirs_ now, and nothing John could do would change that.

In the dream Dean watched on, helpless as he sat in his jumper, as John responded in typical – yet a little exaggerated – John fashion. 

Daddy was first. 

A quick flash of silver and Daddy’s blood was spilling all over the floor of the front entryway. Just as Daddy was falling to his knees, the light already drained from the man’s eyes, Papa was running across the room in horror. 

Papa was then hit with a bullet right to where Dean knew the liver to be. 

Dean had then watched with wide eyes as Papa took a few steps back, hand falling away from his stomach to reveal dark, black blood pouring out as he too collapses to the floor. The beautiful blue in his eyes fading to nothing. 

He had then watched as a calm faced John – calm and blood covered – steps over Daddy and Papa before reaching down for Dean. Just as he felt rough hands closing in on him he had jolted awake. 

Dean sobs in his consciousness and pulls himself so that the top of his head is level with Papa’s. His little arms are no longer thrown around the man’s neck, but about his entire head, and the plastic back of Dean’s pacifier is completely pressed into Papa’s closed left eyelid. 

He hears Papa vocalizing his concerns, but Dean just needs… he just. Dean’s breath hitches and he allows his arms to go lax enough for Cas to pull him off. He allows his jaw to drop as he wails, causing his pacifier to fall out, and though the loss of the rubberized soother is his fault Dean screams even louder. 

Over his loud frustrations he can head Daddy walk into the room and he’s passed off to another pair of arms while Papa gets up to do… something. 

Daddy sits down and Dean starts hitting the man with his useless fists. 

He isn’t mad at Daddy, not at all. But he’s, _fuck!_ he’s so frustrated! If it weren’t for the fact that he was so god damn small he would actually be of use to the two men whose lives were in danger if John ever found them. But no. He has to content himself with being unable to walk or do anything to protect his daddies.

Dean has never felt so _useless_ before. 

His hits tapered off and Daddy’s hands grabbed his. No longer being able to pummel something soft with his fists Dean allowed his facial muscles to relax so that he could look up at the taller male. Daddy smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his forehead before using the cuff of his shirt sleeve to wipe at Dean’s wet nose and cheeks. 

Dean was still crying, but he held back his loud sobs. 

“Did I hear Papa say something about a bad dream?” Daddy whispered as he rearranged Dean on his lap. 

Dean nodded and impersonated a fish until Daddy caught on and bent over to retrieve his forgotten pacifier. Sam slipped it in his mouth and cleaned it off before offering it to him. He sucked a few times before feeling his heart rate start to slow down, and he took a second to just breath before he turned and cuddled onto his Daddy’s lap. 

“I got you Dean, I got you.”

He felt Daddy’s large hand rub at his back and he kicked at the man’s thighs to hoist himself up so that he could use the man’s left bicep as a pillow for his head. 

Dean got himself comfortable and then turned to look up at the man. If he could just stay in Daddy’s lap he’d be okay, but he’d feel a lot better if Papa would come back. 

He was gearing up to start crying in demand to his other father’s presence, but his tears went unneeded as Papa came walking into the room carrying Dean’s turtle. 

“Here sweetheart, you wanna sleep with your turtle tonight?” the man asked holding the plush stuffed animal out as he walked over to them. 

Dean twisted around to get his arms and legs free so that he was able to cling to the soft material of the single greatest toy he could have received. 

“You doing better now?” Papa asked crouching down in front of the rocker and patting at Dean’s padded bottom while Dean was doing his best octopus impression by wrapping both arms and legs around the stuffed toy.

He didn’t want either of the two men to think he was okay enough to be put back into his crib, so instead he gave into his instinct to cry and shake his head vigorously. 

“No?” Papa said aloud as he scooped him up. “How about Papa sits with you for a while and Daddy goes back to sleep?”

Sam was about to deny the other man’s suggestion when Cas cut him off with a kiss.

“I’m serious babe, you have a long day tomorrow, go to bed, we’ll be okay,” Cas said laying a hand on the taller man’s chest.

Sam bit at his lip and nodded, “Okay,” he kissed Cas once more before leaning down to kiss at Dean’s forehead, “goodnight sweetheart.”

Cas sat back down in the rocker as Daddy left, Dean thrown over his shoulder as he clutched his turtle, alternately sniffling and suckling on his pacifier as Papa smoothly rocked them and rubbed at Dean’s back. 

Dean wasn’t tired. He wasn’t sleepy in the slightest. 

He was a hunter who had been trained to go days without a wink of sleep. But he was also scared at that moment, and allowed himself to fall back asleep across the man’s shoulder as his Papa rocked and soothed him back to sleep. 

*****

“Wow, look at you Dean!” 

Dean smiled behind his pacifier and looked up at his Papa who was currently showering him with praise. 

“I think we need to enroll someone in art classes,” Papa said scooting closer on his knees while manipulating his own pile of sand.

Papa had finally set up the little ‘beach’ kit that had been bought for Dean’s birthday. He didn’t know why the man was having such a hard time allowing Dean outside, but from snippets of worried conversations he heard he had a pretty good idea that Papa’s trepidation stemmed from the fact that Dean had fallen ill shortly after their first outing together – shopping trip not included – and that the man constantly worried at a repeat performance of Dean’s sickness. 

While it was true that Dean was extraordinarily excited that Cas had declared that they wouldn’t be attending any more ‘Daddy and Me!’ classes – _fuck, thank God!_ – he was a little upset at the fact that the older man was holding back other opportunities for Dean to have fun. Cause, while watching Dr. Sexy was fun it wasn’t the _only_ activity that Dean wanted to do. 

Even when he was little the first time around he hadn’t been much for sitting around and collecting dust. He was _bored. Bored!_

Getting Papa to set the beach kit up had taken some persuasion, but hey, he was here now, so he wasn’t complaining. 

Sure, Papa had slipped him into some weird plastic shorts that fit snug over his diaper, and his onesie had been replaced with a shirt that rode up too much, and Papa had rubbed him down with sunscreen, leaving what felt like entirely too much on his face, _and_ the man had put a sun hat on his head. But he was getting dirty and doing something with his hands. He couldn’t complain much. 

He continued to smile at his Papa’s comment and shuffled forward on his bottom to recollect the plastic shovel he had thrown down in his haste. He was working to – poorly – recreate an old estate he had seen on a hunt once. _Dean_ could see the traditional square mansion he was sculpting with the wet sand, though in reality he supposed it looked much more like a dilapidated mud pie. 

Didn’t matter to him, Papa was impressed and he was having fun.

“Maybe when Daddy gets home we’ll go for a swim in the big pool huh?” Papa suggested as he threw wet handfuls of sand around, “that sound like fun sweetheart?”

Dean ‘hmmed’ happily as he worked. He had stood in the water of his little beach kit when Papa had first brought him out, but the shallow water wasn’t very fun. Papa had held him up at first, and Dean had kicked at the water, but unless the older man was holding him up he wasn’t able to do more than sit in a few inches of water. So not fun. 

The idea of actually being _in_ the water sounded much more appealing.

“Oh, here, hold your turtle so Papa can take a picture of you sweetheart,” the man said putting the stuffed animal beside him. 

Dean had initially laughed seeing what Cas had done to the creature, but he also found it a simple action of happiness. After wrestling Dean into a sun hat the man had buckled his stuffed turtle into a similar garment. He thought it was silly that the man was taking the step of dressing his turtle up, but also thought that the simple gesture had such an air of affection behind it. It was something that a Father did with his child. Something that Cas did with Dean. Nothing that John had ever done.

Unbeknownst to Dean just how settled into his role he was getting he reached out and grabbed the arm of his stuffed toy and held him in one arm as he padded at the sand with his shovel, humming quite happily from behind his pacifier.

He heard Papa chuckling as he snapped away at his camera before the man’s large shadow blocked the sun from him. Dean looked up to see Cas smiling down at his phone before hastily stuffing the device away in his pocket. 

“I’m going to step inside real quick and grab us some lunch, okay sweetheart. You gonna be okay out here by yourself for a few minutes?”

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed. “F’course I’m gonna be okay.” 

Cas smiled down at him and his babbling and bent over to press a kiss to the top of his sun hat. “Be back in a jiff.”

Dean watched the man walk away into the house, and once the sliding glass doors were shut he tossed the shovel and his turtle aside and got up on his hands and knees. He was going to have to be quick if this was going to work without the man stepping back out and catching him. His arms had gotten a little stronger over the last few weeks since his visit to his grandparents house, Henry’s impromptu ball-rolling session had reminded Dean that there were ways for him to condition the puny little muscles in his body so that they were better equipped to handle the tasks of moving around and possibly walking. 

He had taken it upon himself to work on a kind of ‘baby training’ on his body to get his arms and legs into a more useful state. When Papa and Daddy left him be in his crib for naptime he practiced hauling himself up using the bars and then squatted down and stood back up in rapid succession. To his daddies it no doubt looked like he was a happy little baby bouncing up and down in his crib, but Dean could feel the muscles in his arms and legs strengthening as he continued to use the not quite developed muscles. 

He’d also taken to climbing the stairs. A feat that had scared Papa _shitless_ the first time Dean had done it a few weeks ago when he had first done it, but that was kind of Dean’s fault. Papa had just got up to get Dean a bottle and Dean kind of took the opportunity to try climbing the steps by himself. The man had returned to an empty living room unable to find him, and when he found Dean halfway up the stairs to the second floor Dean had actually been kind of worried that the man was going to yell at him. 

Point was, after weeks of training and practice Dean was confident that his legs now had the ability to hold him upright. Now that Cas was gone and he was alone in the backyard he was going to do it. 

Dean’s heart was fluttering wildly in his chest as he reached the edge of the beach kit and he scooted his bottom forward a bit, putting his bare toes in the cool grass. 

This was it, Dean was thinking as he looked out at the open expanse of the backyard before him and the houses off in the distance. This was his big break.

He stole a few calming breaths before pushing himself up and supporting himself on nothing but his own two feet. He was up, and to be honest that was the hardest part. His sense of stability had been pretty shaky, so knowing that he had it in him to balance on his own two legs was exhilarating. 

_Deep breath._ he told himself as he took one quick step forward and his being jerked and wobbled a bit. _Whoa! Gotta do this fast._

Another step slapped down in the grass. And another. And another. 

He smiled behind his pacifier. He so has this. 

He took his short, quick, wobbly steps and the beach kit was far behind him. He still had at least a few minutes before Cas came back out of the house, and it was honestly enough time for a decent head start. 

His steps were starting to get more unstable now. He had only moved a handful of feet and if he was to get where he needed to be before Cas came back then he needed to move faster. He took two steps faster than he had before and promptly stumbled to his hands and knees. He felt the grit of the yard press into his delicate knees and his face pinched as he tried to not respond to the pain. 

He pushed himself back up and started walking again. Just a few more steps…

He had taken about three more steps when he heard the sliding glass doors open behind him and he internally swore.

“Oh my goodness! Dean!”

He could hear the combination of excitement and fear in the man’s voice and used the adrenaline coursing through his system to make those last few steps before he collapsed onto his bottom before his target.

He ignored the sound of Papa behind him as he placed his unsure hands on top of the old black radio that Papa had placed in the grass. At the moment it was playing some god awful country music that Papa and Grandma Mary enjoyed listening to, but Dean was sure that with a few quick turns of the tuning dial he could find something better to listen to.

He had just located the tuner and starting searching through stations when two large hands wrapped around him and threatened to haul him away.

“No! No! No!” Dean screeched kicking his feet out and – hey, those words actually came out okay. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Papa said putting him back down in the grass where Dean immediately began fiddling with the device again. “Papa just got excited cause he saw you walking sweetheart.”

 _Yeah, Yeah._ Dean thought, just give him a second to put on some decent music and he’d let the man fawn over the fact that he had been walking.

“You trying to change the station Dean?” Papa asked sitting down behind him.

Dean nodded, his fingers were too chubby and uncoordinated to make the dial turn with any precision. 

“How about Papa helps and you tell him when it’s something you like?” the man offered. 

Dean tilted his head back to look the man in the eyes upside down. He considered his offer before nodding. 

Papa smiled and pulled him into his lap before turning the dial to a different station. 

Crap. Dean shook his head.

Next station, this one the emo crap Daddy listened to. He shook his head again.

A third, fourth, and fifth station. All crap. 

Just as Dean was losing hope that they didn’t have any good classic rock stations in the area the dial came across a song that made Dean sigh in relief. 

_“There ain’t no rest for the wicked, money don’t grow on trees…”_

Oh thank god!

Dean did his happy, purring hum and looked up into his Papa’s eyes. 

“You like this sweetheart?”

Dean nodded and reached up to feel Papa’s scruffy cheeks as he hummed and kicked his feet out in time to the song. 

It was a classic. A good song with a great singer. And he listened to it happily until it was over. The song following it was one that people would only not know if they lived under a rock. 

“Stevie Nicks!” Dean chirped as the song came through the radio.

He cooed along with the song while the radio played ‘Edge of Seventeen’. 

“Guess you weren’t too big of a fan of Papa’s music huh?”

Dean turned narrowed eyes up at the man. Understatement. 

“I’ll make a note that you’re a classic rock fan, but can you show Papa how you walked earlier?” the man asked.

Dean nodded and allowed big hands to help him down from Papa’s lap. He crawled forward a few paces before picking himself up and turning around on semi-steady feet. He was kind of tired, so it took a little longer than before to cover this amount of distance, but the look of sheer awe on Papa’s face pushed him on until he was scooped up by big hands and held in the air. 

“Look at you!” Papa cheered, all smiles. “Walking at seven months huh?”

Dean beamed at the praise as Papa stood the both of them up and helped Dean walk back to the beach box. 

*****

Cas hummed quietly as he assembled a salad for dinner. The radio was on the counter playing the station that Dean liked, despite the fact that the little boy was upstairs taking a late nap. 

They had spent much of the day outside playing with the beach kit Tom and Jess had bought them and as dinner was slowly approaching Cas decided to come inside and put Dean down for a nap so he could throw dinner together. 

He had promised Dean that they would go swimming once Sam got home, and he fully intended on keeping that promise. Since it was a nice day out he figured they could have burgers on the grill and a salad. Easy enough to prepare while they were outside with Dean. 

Cas smiled as he thought of their little boy. 

He’d been with them for two months – officially in a few days – and it was incredible seeing the difference in Dean’s behavior. They had started off with an angry and scared little guy who was wary of the two men caring for him. They now had a cheeky little guy with a wicked personality, and who was developing at a rate faster than he or Sam could believe. 

He was chatty too!

Their first month with Dean was spent in an almost eerie silence to what the boy had turned into now though. True, they often couldn’t understand what the little boy was saying, but that never discouraged Dean from talking in his adorable baby babble. 

Cas spent some parts of the day with Dean sat upon his lap on the couch and they two of them would just ‘talk’. Cas would often say silly little things, or tell Dean stories – after bringing Dean home from his grandparents he thought to mention to them that they located Dean’s car and had it shipped to Henry’s garage, a fact that the boy seemed happy about – but most of what Cas said was just a chorus of silly sounds that Dean would attempt to parrot. 

It was during one of these sessions that Cas learned Dean’s ability to pronounce the letter ‘P’, and the fact that Dean purposefully never changed Cas’ name to ‘ _P_ ah’ kind of made him fluttery with happiness. His son truly had a unique name for him and was sticking with it. 

It wasn’t just the talking either. Dean often sought small comforts that kids his age did, his turtle and pacifier being among his favorites. When they had first bought the turtle for Dean it was apparent that the little boy liked the toy, but lately he had become almost inseparable from the stuffed animal. Especially at night…

Cas frowned. Dean had been having problems with nightmares lately, and while nighttime was pretty touch and go on whether or not Dean would sleep soundly the little guy seemed perfectly fine during the day. Perhaps a little clingier in the mornings following his nightmares, but fine nonetheless. 

It was a little worrisome. 

Cas was just scraping the bell pepper he had chopped into the salad bowl when he heard the garage door open. He had a few minutes to wipe his hands off and turn around before he was receiving Sam’s usual greeting kiss – though this one was a bit more passionate than what he usually received. 

“Mmph,” Cas was crowded against the counter, the hard lip digging into his back as Sam’s hips pressed flush with him. 

His husband’s large hands were holding his face and tipping it back so that he could gain entrance to Cas’ mouth. 

He indulged Sam for a moment, tasting the man’s typical coffee flavored lips, before he reached up to push at the man’s chest.

“Well hello,” he spoke breathless.

Sam chuckled, licking his lips and looking down into his eyes before he ducked down and started sucking at Cas’ neck. It was a good thing he was crowded up against the counter, because when Sam’s lips latched onto Cas’ pulse point he felt himself melt.

“Wh—wha, mmm,” Cas’ eyes fluttered closed and his hands landed on Sam’s hips. 

Sam’s hands smoothed down Cas’ chest and around his sides to his back. 

“Sam.”

The larger man made an appreciative rumbling sound in response. 

“Sam, what – ”

His husband stood back up and took his breath away with a final kiss before pulling away.

“We won.”

Cas’ eyes widened. “You?”

“Won.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. So?”

“Yeah!”

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah!”

Cas made an excited squeaking sound – the kind that gave gay men a bad name – and threw his arms around his husband. 

“Oh my god,” he breathed into Sam’s hair. “You won?”

“Yeah” – and now Cas could feel the excitement trembling through Sam’s frame.

Cas could hardly wrap his head around it. Sam and his partner – Brady – had taken on a court case that was deemed ‘nuclear’. Tough to handle and likely to explode into a shit storm of bad rep and too much paperwork. The case itself had the potential to be quite scandalous if the media got a hold of it. A CEO was being sued by an ex-employee whose job had been terminated after refusing to agree to the sexual advances of said CEO. 

The ex-employee had come to Sam and Brady’s firm with the hope that they could sue the CEO – not the company – in order to get monetary compensation for the woman’s job wages that she would no longer be receiving. 

The case had taken months, and there was a lot of money at stake and a lot of hours that people put in to get information on the case while simultaneously keeping the media out of it. 

As far as Cas could tell Sam and Brady were doing their best to get the CEO to agree to their terms without taking all of their evidence to court – as the woman they were working for wanted to do anything to avoid having her name drug through the dirt. 

Sam and Brady had uncovered enough information for them to win the case should the CEO had not agreed, and while they were prepared to take the case to court they weren’t as prepared to take on the likes of someone so wealthy with so many resources at his disposal. 

It had been a problem hanging over Sam’s head for a long time.

Cas pulled away and looked up at his husband, “and he agreed to all of it?”

“Every cent.”

“Shit,” Cas breathed, cupping a hand over his mouth. 

“Cas,” Sam whispered, “do you know how much money I just made?”

Cas nodded, he had a pretty good idea. 

“We need to go on vacation.”

Cas laughed, “we will, for now go upstairs and wake your son up. He’s been looking forward to going swimming with his daddies all day.”

The light in Sam’s eyes changed, the excitement in his eyes changing from a success at work to the prospect of seeing Dean. Just as Sam was about to turn around and follow Cas’ suggestion he changed his mind.

“Wait!” Cas jogged over to the kitchen entrance, “take the stuff outside, we’re grilling, I’ll get Dean.”

Sam looked at him strangely, but shrugged and changed routes. 

Cas ran upstairs to get their little boy, their _walking_ little boy, and prepared to give Sam the best day of his life. 

Cas opened up Dean’s nursery door and walked in to see Dean already standing in his crib, holding himself up on the bars as he rubbed at his eyes with his little fists. He scooped the boy up and couldn’t help his good mood from bubbling over. He kissed Dean over, and over, and over and over. Getting unrestrained baby giggles from the drooly sleepy boy. 

He then changed Dean’s diaper as quick as he could – it helped that Dean had stopped fighting them – and carried dean downstairs. 

“Can you do Papa a favor?” he whispered into the little boy’s ear as they walked down the steps. “Can you help me surprise Daddy by walking to him? I think he’d really appreciate the surprise.”

Dean spouted off a few excited sounding babbles from behind his pacifier and wiggled in Cas’ arms. 

Cas just smiled and walked faster to reach the sliding glass doors. 

He stepped out and immediately spied Sam starting up the grill to put the burgers on.

Sam turned around and locked eyes on Dean, “Heya sweetheart, you sleep well?” Sam asked before turning around to load up the grill.

With the other man’s back turned Cas kneeled and set Dean on the ground, his bare toes drumming on the deck as he worked to steady himself. 

“Okay,” Cas whispered just barely loud enough for Dean to hear, “go get him tiger.”

With an encouraging pat to his bottom Dean took off. 

Well, took off in a walking sense. He wasn’t all that fast yet. 

The first two slaps of Dean’s feet against the wooden decking went unnoticed, but the third finally caught Sam’s attention.

The taller man glanced over his shoulder at the two of them before returning to the grill. Cas then bit his lip in anticipation as Sam realized what he had just seen and his head was a brown fuzz it whipped around so fast.

“Dean!” Sam’s eyes were huge as he watched Dean toddling forward unassisted. 

Their little boy responded by squealing – he loved it when they paid any amount of attention to him – and started chanting off “Da, Da, Da, Da,” behind his pacifier.

Sam dropped down on one knee and held his arms out as Dean got closer. Dean’s steps got bouncier when he was by Sam’s arms, and nearly jumped into Sam when he finally got close enough. 

Cas stood and smiled – the proudest Papa and husband in the world – as he watched his two boys snuggle and laugh and kiss in their shared experience of Dean walking to his Daddy for the first time. 

“Where did you learn how to do that huh?” Sam said standing up with the boy and walking over to him.

“He honestly did it on his own,” Cas said gaining Sam’s attention. “Stepped inside to grab some lunch and when I came out Dean was walking over to the radio to change the station.”

Dean snickered behind his pacifier, his smile the biggest they’d ever seen. 

Sam pressed his lips to Dean’s cheek and made a farting noise, to which Dean squealed and batted at Sam’s head to dislodge him. 

“Are we going to have trouble keeping up with you?”

Cas chuckled, “probably.”

“You wanna take over the grill?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Sam started walking off toward the house.

“Where are you going?”

“To put my trunks on,” Sam threw over his shoulder, “we’re going swimming!”

Cas shook his head and stepped up to the abandoned grill to take over the dinner preparation.

Sam came back out a few minutes later wearing his swim trunks with a towel thrown over his shoulder. Combined with the fact that he had Dean perched on his hip who he was excitedly talking to and Cas’ husband was like a walking billboard for a wet dream. 

Inheriting a ridiculous metabolism coupled with the fact that they tried to take Dean jogging in the mornings with the jogging stroller meant that Sam had never lost the physique that Cas had fallen in love with. His husband was lean and _cut_. 

He might not have the biggest muscles in the world, but the firm abs and veiny biceps made Cas’ brain short-circuit for a half a second. When you added the fact that an adorable baby was placed on one of those lean hips in the crook of one of those muscled arms and -- _yeah_ Cas was glad he hadn’t changed into his own swimsuit yet. Harder to hide a boner in those. 

He turned back to the grill and set the burners on low – discretely maneuvering his thickening dick into a less conspicuous location – before walking over to join Sam at the pool.

Sam went to pass Dean over so he could jump in and Cas pressed his lips to the shell of the man’s ear. “When Dean goes to bed I want you to fuck me so hard that I can’t sit straight for a week.”

Cas stood back up and pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. Innocent look on his face as he watched Sam clear his throat and shook his head before jumping into the pool, Sam took off swimming in the other direction while Cas sat down to kick his feet in the water, Dean watching on from his lap. 

When Sam swam back he framed Cas’ legs with his arms. “You ready baby boy?” he asked Dean, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. 

Dean hummed happily while inching forward on his rump.

“Okay,” Sam reached to pull Dean into the pool. 

The beach kit hadn’t been deep enough for Dean to do much in, even Cas recognized that, and while he still couldn’t swim yet Dean seemed ecstatic to get into the pool. He kicked his feet out at the water – making the two older men laugh – before Sam was able to get his lower half submerged. 

Dean had always enjoyed baths. Always turning into a pile of manipulative baby goo, but Dean’s reaction to the pool was much different. He was kicking his feet under water and slapping the surface of the water with his hands, giggling at the splashing he caused. 

Cas watched on for a few minutes before he got up to flip the burgers. While he was up he took a moment to slip inside to change into his own trunks and to bring out the radio which was still playing Dean’s radio station on it. 

When the burgers were finished he moved them to the top rack of the grill and shut the flame off before joining his two boys in the pool.

“You wanna go see Papa?” Sam asked once Cas was only a few feet away.

Dean nodded and looked ready to be passed off to his other father. Sam held Dean in front of him with both hands and – Cas still not holding him yet – pushed him forward, propelling him unassisted through the water until he ended up in Cas’ arms.

The little boy’s eyes got _wide_ at the sensation of floating on his own in the pool, and when Cas got a hold of him Dean looked up at him with a questioning look. 

“You wanna do that again?”

Dean looked unconvinced as to whether or not being _in_ the water like that was any fun, so Cas figured they’d try something else. 

He looked up to his husband – who was still only like three feet from him in the pool – and furrowed his brow in exaggerated thought. “You wanna play catch?”

Sam pursed his lips, catching on to where he was going with this. “I’d like to, but I don’t think we have a ball…”

“Yeah,” Cas said sounding so forlorn. “Too bad all we have is Dean,” a put upon sigh, “guess we’ll just have to toss him huh?”

“Guess so.”

Dean looked up and made eye contact with him, Cas didn’t give him a moment to consider whether or not it was a scary venture before he was hauling Dean out of the water and gently tossing him in Sam’s direction. 

Sam caught him easily and pressed a kiss to the boy’s nose before tossing him back. 

“Was that okay?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded, a little hesitant. 

So Sam and Cas did it again. 

And again.

And again. 

And, okay, Dean was outright having fun now. 

Breathless laughter escaped him at being tossed like that. Cas took a chance and made sure that Dean’s toes actually left the water on one of his passes and Dean positively _shrieked_ with excitement. Sure, they’d have to retrieve a fallen pacifier from the bottom of the pool, but Dean was having fun.

Like all of their activities with Dean it only lasted a short period. They didn’t want to get carried away and get him hurt, nor did they want him soaked in the chlorinated water for a long time, so as Cas walked to the ladder to climb out Sam ducked under the water to get Dean’s pacifier. 

They dried off and Cas held Dean throughout dinner, feeding the little boy bites of burger and watching the frequency and strength of his yawns increasing. When Dean’s head starting bobbing while food was still in his mouth Cas decided to call it a night. 

“Here,” he said holding Dean over the picnic table to pass him to Sam, take him inside and give him a bath before bed. I’ll clean up out here. 

Sam nodded, swallowing a drink from his glass before accepting Dean and going inside. 

Cas cleaned up the grill and the picnic table; stacking the dirty plates and leftovers together before walking inside. 

Sam was just pulling an almost comatose Dean from the sink and wrapping him in one of his towels to be taken upstairs and changed. 

“You wanna do a bottle tonight?” Cas thought Sam was asking him, but when he looked over to give Sam his answer he saw a sleepy faced Dean nodding at Sam’s question.

He turned around and chuckled as he dealt with the remains of dinner while Sam heated up a bottle and retreated upstairs. 

By the time he had the kitchen returned to it’s former glory Sam already had Dean in a new diaper and jammies. Rocking the babe back and forth as he worked on his bottle. 

Cas leaned up against the door jamb and watched for a few moments before speaking up. “You remember what I told you outside?”

Sam looked up through his lashes. Mischievous excitement in his eyes. “Of course.”

“Good,” Cas stood straight and took a step back, “I’m gonna to get ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to encourage ya'll to check out Deadmockingbirds' new story "The Winchesters" So! Great!
> 
> (It's an infantilism fic that kicks ass and makes me laugh!)
> 
> Also, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! for all of the suggestions! I literally have a suggestion box that I put together and from that I stitch chapter ideas together. And while I may not hit your suggestions exactly on the head I do my best to include them, as I'd like this to be a fic that sprouts from my mind as well as from my readers'. So if there's anything you want to see happen let me know and I'll do my best to incorporate it. 
> 
> You guys gave me so many good ones last time that I think I accidentally stumbled upon more of a plot than I intended! (Which was originally going to be just 'one year of cute baby shit'. So I blame all of you and your wonderful-wonderfulness for anything and everything that happens with this story. 
> 
> So thank you for being awesome readers :) We should all go out for coffee sometime :)


	11. "Adult Time"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day Bitches~!

They never used to have to ‘prepare’ to have sex before. Sex between he and Cas had always been one of two things. Either A, they bumped up against each other in bed, traded a few kisses, things got heated, and one thing led to another. Or B, Sam was horny. In that case Cas was more or less manhandled into whichever position suited him best and Cas would just have to put up with being pounded into wherever it was Sam had put him. 

With Dean though, things were different. 

They had to _prepare._

And, sure, it made the idea of animalistic, all-consuming sex not sound as hot and dirty as it once did. Cause it meant that Cas was going to relocate the baby monitor to the bathroom for the time being, and that they were going to make sure clean clothing was available should they have to run to their baby boy’s rescue in the middle of everything – that had happened once. 

And now they always made sure a bottle was premade whenever they decided to have sex. Because being groggy and making a bottle at two in the morning was nothing compared to being awoken from a sex coma and finding yourself in front of the fridge at three am trying to remember what the hell you were doing while holding a squirmy and sniffling six month old on your hip. Just ask Cas. 

So yeah, in that aspect their sex life had changed. But they were parents. Sitcoms had been dedicated to the concept of children destroying their parents’ sex lives for decades. If all Dean was good at now was making them a little less spontaneous then you wouldn’t hear him or Cas crying. 

Even with the knowledge that Cas was patiently waiting in their warm, large, plush bed – aroused and lonely – Sam wasn’t rushing his time with Dean. 

He was steadily rocking, just as he had been before Cas stopped in and reminded him that he had a domestic duty for his husband that he had agreed to ‘fill’ – heh, sex humor. 

His rocking never quickened. The soft kisses that he pressed to Dean’s golden crown never lost their tenderness. And the love that showed in his eyes never lost its luster.

He was content to wait out Dean’s feeding, and to milk it for every last second. 

Their little guy was truly exhausted though, as he only paused in his suckling two times to stare up at him with his wide-eyed green stare. Sam and Cas had noticed that Dean had a tendency to zone out and focus on them for brief periods of time – mostly at bottle feedings – as if he were trying to get a handle on the two of them. Dissect them. Study them. Learn what exactly it was that made his two daddies tick. 

With a gentle prod – in the form of his finger wiggling against Dean’s plump, pouted bottom lip – Dean was back to sucking, though his lips were growing lax as he lost the battle against sleep.

Sam smiled and pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead, he gave the small boy five more minutes before he was out.

He could watch the alertness in Dean’s face fade away to nothing, and soon Sam was holding a sleeping baby boy. 

He plucked the bottle’s nipple from between Dean’s lips and watched the milk stained cherry lips curl around air for a few precious seconds until he was able to press a pacifier between them. Suckling happily in his sleep Sam cuddled Dean close, rearranging him slowly on his shoulder so that he could bury his nose in that sweet, baby-smelling hair. 

If he could just bottle that smell up – he’d be a happy man.

Sam stood slowly from the rocker, wary of waking the sleeping babe, and crept slowly across the room to deposit his precious bundle. He stood over Dean’s crib to just watch him sleep. One would think Sam had long grown tired of watching Dean while unconscious – especially during their extended hospital stay – but that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Over the days and weeks they had slowly been noticing a change, a goal they had slowly been reaching and – something that made Sam choke up with happiness – a goal he realized they had finally reached. 

He reached out with his too large hands to run the back of his finger over the knuckles of one of Dean’s hands. 

It was totally relaxed.

No clenching, no squeezing. No tension whatsoever. Dean was at ease. 

And not just in his hands, but in his face. The look of constant distress and tension was replaced with a genuine softness that led him to finally believe that Dean was at peace while asleep, as opposed to being taut, and prepared to spring into readiness should trouble strike.

Sam smiled and clicked on Dean’s baby monitor before leaving the room – remembering to shut the door behind him.

In the twelve steps that took him from Dean’s nursery to his and Cas’ shared bedroom he underwent a transformation. Gone was the man who cradled his baby boy, and back was the red-blooded man who enjoyed proper sex with his husband. 

He walked into their bedroom and had to take pause. 

Cas was laid out on top of the covers, bare ass naked. His hard blue eyes watched Sam with a hunger that the two men shared, and Sam licked his lips subconsciously – he wanted to be fed.

The sight of his husband – his _naked_ husband – always made Sam falter. Cas just had that ability to him.

The man was this strange kind of sexy. He wasn’t particularly muscled, or lean. He had always been soft in his stomach – but firm. His arms were never going to bench press trucks, and his thighs weren’t designed for bicycle shorts. 

But he was Sam’s.

This man was older than him, and yet always had an air of vulnerability and innocence to him in a way that made Sam go from flag in the wind soft to a sold fucking rock. Every. Single. Time.

He was glad the room was kind of dark – totally tenting his swim trunks here.

“Hey,” Sam breathed.

“Hey yourself.”

Sam swallowed the saliva in his mouth – completely aware of the mouth-watering treat being displayed in front of him – and proceeded to crawl up their bed. Pressing random kisses and licks into his husband’s warm, salty skin as he went.

He bypassed Cas’ cock – red, and hard – in favor of breathing out hot air over the flushed organ, and lapped at the man’s navel for a few moments before moving onto his nipples.

He heard a soft intake of breath as he proceeded to lick, suck, and bite both nipples.

By the time their faces were level Cas was biting his lower lip, and was more than okay with releasing it so that he could accept Sam’s wet kisses.

As his and Cas’ lips got reacquainted the rest of Sam’s body was able to catch up. He finished crawling up the bed, and once in place blanketed Cas’ body with his own. 

Sam loved the feeling of his weight pressing down on Cas, the fact that every inch of his body was pressing every inch of Cas. How – despite the height difference – their groins always, _always_ lined up, and they could feel their arousal slowly growing alongside of each others as they lazy kissed their way into proper foreplay.

Sam hummed as he and Cas angled their heads so that they could have access into each other’s mouths. At the first taste Sam could _feel_ the endorphins flooding his body. 

Cas always tasted so – so, natural. Fresh. Like he’s just been chomping away at fresh garden vegetables. And Sam loved it.

He continued to hum as he lapped away at the best taste in the world.

Cas chuckled at one point, just as he gave a tug to Sam’s hair – why do you think he kept it long? – and he would have put more thought into the noise, but hair pulling was definitely his kink.

Besides, Cas chuckling during their making out always meant the same thing. 

Early on in their dating Cas had made a comment that Sam always hummed whenever they kissed.

_”Seriously, your lips push out and you hum. Like constantly. What do you pretend you’re doing? Eating soup?”_

Sam had responded the only way he could think at the time, as he wanted to turn his slightly embarrassing personal habit into something more – sexy perhaps.

_“You blow on soup when it’s hot. Maybe you’re just so hot I’m worried I’m going to burn my lips.”_

That one had earned him a particularly nasty – in terms of clean-up – blowjob that had gone into the spank bank for whenever Sam needed inspiration.

So yeah, that chuckle? It was Cas remembering what a younger Sam had said. That Cas was so hot he was going to burn Sam’s lips by kissing him.

They were so sappy sometimes that even Sam almost felt tempted to roll his eyes. Almost.

He did pull their faces apart though. Partly because he needed to catch his breath – passing out from lack of oxygen didn’t help to put anyone in the mood – and partly because he wanted to share with Cas what he had seen in Dean’s nursery.

“His knuckles aren’t clenched,” he puffed against Cas’ neck before latching on, much like he had done in the kitchen. 

If hair pulling was Sam’s selling point then anything that involved the tender skin of Cas’ neck was the other man’s.

“Wha?”

“Dean, s’knuckles aren’t clenched,” Sam repeated distractedly as he started sucking on the lobe of Cas’ ear.

“Oh – OH! Fuck!”

Sam chuckled. He had derailed Cas’ thoughts on their son with the simple act of worming one of his hands down to the juncture of Cas’ legs and grabbing the base of the other man’s cock, giving it lazy strokes as he continued to suck and nibble at his neck.

He moved his face lower onto Cas’ chest so that he could leave his marks and hickeys in a place where people wouldn’t be able to see – no one needed to see the evidence of their sex lives – and Cas started pulling at his back. And Sam knew that despite the short length to the other man’s fingernails he would end up with those long red claw marks that would burn for days in the shower and remind him of this night.

Sam continued to bite, suck, kiss, and stroke – while Cas held onto his back, biting his own lip and making these aborted moans, all interspersed with delicious little whimpered “fucks” and “oh Gods.”

Eventually the two of them worked out that Sam was still wearing clothes – their blood had been diverted elsewhere, thinking with an erection is never easy – and they both worked in tandem to remove Sam from his shorts.

The first feeling of them both pressing their naked erections together had them gasping – Sam closed his eyes and sent up a little prayer like he always did at times like this, that he was lucky enough to have this man in his life – and they continued to make out and roll against each other as if they still had all night to do this. As if they _didn’t_ have to be parents to the world’s cutest little boy in the morning.

Sam was humming again, getting caught up in the lazy motions of getting hit after hit of his addictive husband, and running hands over the expanse of naked skin that was all his.

A tug to his hair made him change course and start sucking at Cas’ jaw again.

“N-not to _fuhk!_ spoil your fun there Ssammy – uhnn – but, can you just,” – and Sam gave a particularly nasty bite around Cas’s right nipple.

“Jesus Christ! You get that fucking dick in me. Now. Or I’m replacing you with Esteban.”

Sam growled. He _hated Esteban._ The ridiculously named black dildo that Cas bought for himself when business had called him to the East coast for nearly a month a few years back.

Sam had had to put up with the most inappropriate pictures that his husband could send him, and though they’d had mind blowing sex when Sam returned, Cas had never gotten rid of the toy.

If Cas wanted to be fucked until kingdom come, then so be it. 

Sam sat back on his haunches and gathered up his husbands legs so that he could throw them over Cas’ left shoulder – fuck, he loved how flexible the other man could be.

“Thank fuck,” Cas breathed.

He held the back of both of Cas’ knees in one hand, and used the other to pull his cheeks apart so he could get first glance of that beautiful rosy pucker.

Sam bit his lower lip and rumbled in his chest. If Cas wanted a caveman….

He dug in with his free thumb, pressing it into the curl of muscle – dry.

Cas whimpered, so Sam eased the way with a little spit. 

It wasn’t enough to make a totally smooth entrance, but Sam wasn’t about to pause for any fucking lube. After all, Cas’ did say he didn’t want to sit for a week.

With only a short moment given for prep – though there had been instances where Sam hadn’t given any prep at all – he ducked his head down to spit on and slick up his dick, which was jumping every few moments with how hard he had gotten.

He lined himself up to Cas and held, with the tip just pressing, just asking for entrance. He looked up at Cas’ eyes.

“Do it.”

So Sam did.

He pushed in with one, hard thrust.

“Oh! _shit!fuck!_ ”, Cas reached up to grab at the headboard as Sam rearranged Cas’ legs in his single hand. 

Once he had successfully pressed his husband into a completely folded shape he started pounding.

After years of practice he knew exactly where to angle his hips so that he hit Cas’ prostate dead on every single fucking time. 

Each snap brought Sam moans and curses from the older man below him, and true to Sam’s caveman style he was grunting and growling like an alpha in rut. 

Sweat started to break out across Sam’s naked back, and when the salty droplets hit the red scratches on his back they burned, adding another source of stimulation.

Sam could tell from the frequency and pitch change in Cas’ noises that his husband was getting close. So he let go of Cas’ legs and used his body weight to hold the man down. One hand went to the short hairs on his husband’s head, while the other wrapped around Cas’ cock, to abort any attempts he was making to climax.

“Together,” was all Sam said.

With the new change in position meant that Sam’s thrusts became snaps, he was really rutting into his husband now.

Sam dropped his head and the two men made eye contact, neither planning on breaking it until they were done. Their faces were so close now that they could taste each other’s breath and their noses bumped frequently.

Sam felt his balls draw up and knew he was only a few seconds from letting go, so he eased up the pressure he had around the base of Cas’ cock and began to stroke him to climax. 

“Come,” he growled, “come with me.”

Cas’ eyes fluttered the same time that he drew Sam’s name out on a long moan, the same time that Sam felt his warm come explode out onto his hand, the same time that Sam released his climax, finally making the way for his dick sloppy and wet.

Sam gave a few more half-heartedly thrusts – just to tease out the after shocks – before swooping in and claiming Cas’ mouth again. 

They continued to kiss as Sam pulled himself out, followed by a rush of come. He allowed Cas’ legs to drop down to the bed as he slid away, but not before he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of both of Cas’ inner thighs.

He went to the bathroom and retrieved a warm towel and the baby monitor, returning to the room to clean his husband off and to replace the baby monitor on their side table.

Cas hummed as Sam cleaned him and then chuckled.

“What?” 

“Do you hear that?” Cas murmured, already half asleep as Sam lovingly washed his belly. 

“No.”

“Dean,” he answered, “it sounds like he’s singing.”

Sam quirked his eyebrow, but Cas had already dropped off into sleep. 

He finished with the towel and dropped it in the hamper before tugging on a pair of sleep pants. He walked down the hall to Dean’s nursery and popped inside. 

Dean was still asleep, but Cas was right. The little babe was babbling away in his sleep, and it really did sound like he was singing. 

Sam pressed a kiss to his head and left. Crawling back into bed with Cas after turning up the baby monitor – just a little – so that he could cuddle Cas and listen to Dean in his sleep.

Sam was a happy man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought some smutty-smut would be nice for the Hallmark Day!


	12. The Fucking GREEN shirt!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the impression that you guys were less than impressed with the last chapter due to it's lack of Dean and/or the lack of smut warning for the chapter. Sorry guys, I figured a sex scene for Valentine's Day would be fun, but I feel bad that you guys weren't as stoked for it as I was.
> 
> As an apology I put a rush on the beginning section for the next chapter and decided to post it. 
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be part of a much larger chapter and detail the events of the entire night (you'll see what I mean) but this is me apologizing for the less than stellar last chapter.
> 
> Sorry guys!

He was seated upon Papa and Daddy’s big bed, laid on his back on the fluffy comforter. He was in nothing but his diaper and was curled up with one arm thrown out to the side and the other holding onto one of his feet. 

He was staring out at the room, upside down, as his daddies were cleaning themselves up and getting dressed up in nice suits. 

Papa had laid out an outfit at the foot of the bed that they were going to try wrestling Dean into. And he meant wrestle. 

Papa had picked out black elastic-waisted slacks, a white button-up onesie, and a black jacket, all alongside black shoes that mimicked the ones his daddies had laid out for themselves. 

It was a baby-suit. 

And though it was meant for a human being under one he recognized the fact that it was a much better quality suit than the ones Dean had worn for interviews when he was on a case.

None of that, however, meant that Dean was okay with wearing it. 

He had grown used to the soft t-shirt onesies and patterned cargo shorts Daddy and Papa dressed him in, and he wasn’t about to roll over and let them dress him in a monkey suit. His belly might be pink, soft and smell like lavender, but it sure as hell wasn’t yellow. 

Daddy came over and smiled down at him on the bed. 

“Hey buddy, how ya doing over here?” Daddy asked him as the floppy haired man was buttoning up his shirt.

“I don’t wanna wear that stupid monkey suit Dada,” Dean babbled up at the large man. 

His Daddy smiled down at him; hearing Dean talking up at him and use his name. He wasn’t sure what had changed over the weeks after living with his daddies, but at one point he stopped ignoring the questions and conversational cues that the men gave him and he started responding to them. 

It was partially because Dean had a snarky personality and he liked responding to the men with his verbal barbs, but it was also because he logically knew that the constant practice at speaking would pay off when he was able to finally start speaking again. 

Sam reached out to the bed and pulled Dean over to the edge of the bed and – still upside down – Sam started blowing raspberries into Dean’s tummy. 

Dean giggled and let go of his foot to squirmed around onto his belly so he could crawl away on the bed and escape his Daddy’s tingly lips. 

He had just reached the center of the bed when Daddy’s big hand wrapped around his leg and dragged him back.

Dean shrieked and laughed as his Daddy attacked him. With playful growls and mock gobbling of his toes Dean was wiggly and smiley as a soft pair of socks was pulled onto his feet. 

And then his smiles stopped.

He was lying on his back at the edge of the bed when his smile was replaced with a scowl as he realized that his Daddy was dressing him. 

He grunted and curled to pull at the socks as Sam stepped away to grab Dean’s shirt.

“No no, sweetheart. You gotta keep those on.”

“N-no!”

Daddy sighed and adjusted Dean’s socks. He had managed to pull them off a short ways. 

“Daddy’s gonna get you dressed while Papa finishes in the bathroom and then we should be ready to go,” he said as he started bunching the onesie in his hands in preparation of pulling the garment over Dean’s head.

“No!” Dean screamed flipping over and crawling away.

“Dean!”

Dean ignored his Daddy in favor of crawling across the bed; Hell bent on escaping the fate of a button up and slacks. 

He felt a weight settle on the bed behind him and a finger was hooked into the back of his diaper to keep him from crawling any further. Sam hauled Dean back on the bed and laid him out to so he could keep dressing him.

Sam got the shirt over his head and started putting his arms through the sleeves.

“Nuh – NO!” Dean cried as Daddy got one arm through. 

“What’s wrong sweetie-pie? Don’t you want to come to the party with Daddy and Papa?” Sam cooed. 

Dean grew more agitated as Sam pulled more of his onesie into place. By the time he was laid on his back so that Daddy could put together the snaps at his crotch Dean’s lip was pouted out and he was trying to communicate his displeasure in his eyes. 

Daddy looked up at his eyes periodically as he worked and finally whispered, “do you not like your suit?” 

He had to give his Daddy props for not being the lug-head he kind of looked like. 

“No,” Dean whined.

Daddy hummed as he rubbed at Dean’s belly, “I know. Suits suck huh?” Daddy asked, even as he grabbed the slacks from the foot of the bed and started sliding them up Dean’s legs. “But I promise it’s only for a few hours, and if makes you feel better we’ll bring your jammies so that we can change you in the car, huh?”

His lips were still pouted, and he still wasn’t happy, but Daddy’s compromise made the idea a little bearable.

He nodded.

“Mkay,” Daddy said, standing him up on the bed and pressing kisses to his forehead as Daddy pulled up the waist of his pants up around the puff of his diaper. 

Dean took and unsteady step forward – the mattress was a tricky surface to walk on, despite the fact that Daddy was helping him – and stepped up onto Daddy’s legs to wrap his arms around the bigger man’s neck.

Sam’s arms came down and around him as his head ducked to kiss the top of his head.

“You okay sweetheart?” Sam asked uncertainly.

“No, m’mad that I can never get my way,” Dean mumbled into his Daddy’s neck. 

Which was true. Dean was accustomed to his stubborn personality gaining him things that he wanted and to ensure that he avoided things that he didn’t. But this whole baby business made it hard for Dean to talk or muscle his way through things. 

He was frustrated and honestly just wanted a hug from the large man as he worked through his frustrations. 

Dean tucked up his feet against Daddy’s chest and snuggled in, releasing a great big sigh. 

Frustration wasn’t the only emotion that he was fighting at the moment. 

They were getting ready to head out to a fancy restaurant that Daddy’s work had rented for the night. The company was celebrating some big accomplishment that they had recently achieved, and all employees and their families were invited. 

That meant a lot of strange people in the same room as him _while_ being crammed into a monkey suit. 

The birthday party a few weeks ago had been one thing, as the people invited were family members and it had all been pretty casual. Tonight’s event was more high key, and it wasn’t at home. So Dean’s trepidation over it was much higher.

Understanding that Dean wanted a long-lasting cuddle his Daddy inched his way to the edge of the bed and threw his legs over the side. 

“Daddy needs to finish getting dressed my little monkey, but you keep holding onto me, huh?”

“Okay.” Dean agreed, though he was pretty sure it came out more like _“oh-hey.”_

Sam leaned over with one arm curled around his back and pulled one of the sets of black shoes closer. Dean hung off of his Daddy’s neck as the other man put on and tied his shoes, and he kept his arms around the older man’s neck when Sam stood and moved across the room to the dresser where he had his suit jacket laying. 

Dean is shuffled between both of his Daddy’s arms as the man put his jacket on before sitting back on the bed. 

“Do you still need cuddles sweetheart?” Daddy asked as he rubbed at his back.

Dean nodded and nuzzled close, thinking that he could absorb excess comfort now to make up for the horrible night that awaited him.

Daddy pressed a kiss to his head and murmured a quiet “okay,” as he sat back against the pillows at the head of the bed and let Dean lie peacefully on his chest.

Dean snuggled in closer and sighed as he started playing with the buttons on his Daddy’s shirt with his little fingers. Where his head was situated on the taller man’s chest he could perfectly hear the man’s beating heart. It was a steady rhythm that put Dean at ease.

Though it was only a few hours before the strict bedtime that his daddies had enforced upon him he wasn’t close to tired. In preparation for the long night he had been allowed and extra super long nap to make up for the fact that he would be up late tonight.

Dean grumbled and rubbed his cheek along his Daddy’s shirt. He could hear Papa shuffling around in the attached bathroom He was the last of the two men to use the bathroom as Daddy had more hair that had to dry and Dean had heard him claim more than once about how he wasn’t the kind of man to own a hair dryer – gay or not.

Dean hadn’t realized how much time had passed – he was too content with how cozy he was on Daddy’s chest – and he soon heard a startling “aww,” come from the foot of the bed. 

He sat up on Daddy’s chest to see Papa at the foot of the bed, clad with wet hair, boxers and a white t-shirt as he stared at the two of them on the bed.

“My boys look so spiffy decked out in their suits,” Papa said as he reached for his own pair of black suit pants. 

“Dean isn’t very happy about the choice of clothes,” Daddy said conversationally, sitting up so that Dean could better watch his Papa get dressed. He had to admit that both men looked stunning in the fine clothes. 

“Hmm, I bet. He loves his t-shirts,” Papa agreed – pants pulled up but left unbuttoned as he thrust his arms into the sleeves of his own shirt. 

While Dean’s undershirt was all white Papa and Daddy were wearing colored shirts. Daddy’s was a deep red color and Papa was putting on a blue shirt that was a few shades darker than his eyes. 

That wasn’t fair. 

Dean leaned back, head tilting against Daddy’s chest and stared up at the man’s chin.

“Da? Da?”

“Yeah sweetie-pie?” the man asked looking down and pressing a kiss to his head.

Dean plucked at the front of his shirt and grunted, “uh.”

“I know, you don’t like your shirt,” Daddy said placatingly. “I promised we’d bring your jammies didn’t we?”

“No, guh,” Dean tried correcting him. 

What had happened to that nice green shirt he had worn for his birthday party? That thing had at least had short sleeves. He’d feel less confined in his green button up shirt.

“Yes I did,” Daddy said with a smile, “don’t you remember Daddy’s promise?”

Was sasquatch not listening? He wasn’t arguing over the suit anymore, he wanted his goddamn green shirt.

“Noooo,” Dean said with an eye roll, hand still fisted in his shirt as he gave another tug to the fake buttons, “guh, gur-en.”

“You trying to say green sweetheart?” Daddy asked, kind of impressed.

Dean bobbed his head.

“Are you Daddy’s little green-eyed monster?”

What the fuck. Was Daddy even trying to listen?

“Gur-en. Gur-en! GUR-EEENN!” Dean threw his arms out and hit Daddy’s arms, his frustration at being unable to communicate resulting in tears. He was usually able to suffer his way through his lack of communication pretty well, but other times it left him with irresolvable emotions and a level of anger and frustration that was quiet impressive for him. 

This was the first time that Dean’s lack of communication had ended in tears though. 

He felt Daddy turn him around and drape him over his shoulder as he cried, and Dean couldn’t help but give in and continue with his loud sobs and sniffles. 

“Oh Dean, I know sweetheart, I know. You’re so frustrated, and I’m so sorry,” Daddy cooed at him while rubbing his back.

Dean swiped his nose over the material of Daddy’s shoulder, not caring that he was getting the man’s clean shirt all dirty.

It served him right. Cause he sure as hell didn’t know how this felt. Daddy could communicate effectively and get what he wanted. 

A third hand was ruffling Dean’s hair, and he opened his teary eyes to see Papa leaning across the bed to look into his face. 

“Okay, my little monster, why the tears?”

Dean sighed and choked out a response, “I want my green shirt,” which effectively came out as _“I wuh gush.”_

“Hmm,” Papa thought settling onto the bed. “Daddy said that you weren’t so happy with your outfit. Is that true?”

Dean nodded. 

“Well Papa and Daddy need you to dress nice for tonight unfortunately,” Papa tried explaining again.

Dean’s tears started up again, though this time they were silent, “Nu-nu-noo!” he whined into Daddy’s shoulder. He took a few quick breaths and tried once again _really hard_ this time. “Guh-ruh-eeen!”

And when he looked up at Papa’s face he saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Green? Shirt? Sweetheart is that what you mean?”

Daddy turned his head to address the older man, “do you think he means his green shirt from his birthday party?” 

_Fuck, thank God yes!_

Dean nodded his head furiously. His bought of tears cured for the moment.

“Oh, honey. You want your green shirt instead?” Papa said _finally_ understanding. 

Dean nodded. 

Papa leaned forward to press a big kiss to his cheek. “Papa’ll get your shirt sweetheart,” the man said before getting up to do just that. 

Dean sagged against Daddy as the younger man pulled him down so they could look eye to eye. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know what you wanted sweetheart,” he said before giving Dean a quick hug. “Daddy would love nothing more than to know what you’re saying Dean.”

Dean sighed. Him too.

Pretty soon he was stripped of the boring white button up and redressed in his green shirt. It was a miniscule improvement, especially when Daddy insisted that it was time for them all to don their jackets and shoes to hit the road. 

Papa was setting him in the car seat and had him all buckled in when he pulled a small comb out of Dean’s diaper bag to run through his hair. Dean squirmed away from the attention, he liked his hair looking kinda crazy, he didn’t want it tamed down!

Dean grizzled, “no!”

Papa smiled and continued his assault, “who taught you that word huh?” he said conversationally before he put the comb away and handed Dean his turtle. “Here, Pap dressed your turtle up too.”

And damnit, the man had. Dean’s stuffed turtle was dressed in an extra pair of Dean’s black pants, and underneath was the white button up onesie that Dean had thrown a fit in order to get out of. He couldn’t help but laugh at the sight his stuffed toy made. 

He loved it that Papa did such silly things. 

Papa went to shut the door when Daddy came scampering out of the house into the garage, “wait, wait, I got something else for him,” the man said stepping up to the door. 

“Here honey,” Daddy said holding out a new pacifier. Dean opened his mouth, prepared for it to be plugged in, but Daddy paused to point out the motif on the front.

“You see the design on the front Dean?” Daddy asked, clipping it to Dean’s jacket and then handing the pacifier over.

Dean turned the plastic object over in his hand as Daddy and Papa closed up the SUV and climbed in the front. He smiled when he saw the small black mustache that was painted on the white button front of the pacifier and gladly popped it in his mouth. 

“Dada,” he said, gaining the taller man’s attention in the rearview mirror.

Sam looked at him as he backed the car out of the garage, “you like your pacifier sweetheart?”

Dean ‘hmmed’ and nodded his head. 

Daddy and Papa shared a laugh and Dean turned his attention out to the darkened sky around them. 

His stomach was still in knots at the prospect of being out and about in such a stiff environment, but he figured as long as he had his well-dressed turtle wingman, his mustache binky, and his two daddies that he would be okay.


	13. the one chapter I can't get rid of because of all of the lovely comments...

So, this isn't a real update, but I have a semi-important question and would love feedback:  
Two things before I get to this question though;  
1) I've been a super bad author lately and haven't responded to any of your lovely comments, that is on my to do list  
2) I AM working on the next update. Like for reals. I'm at my cubby in the library waiting on my night class to start and have my notebook in front of me, I would attatch a photo for proof, but I'm lazy.

So here's my question; can you think of a super cute baby name for Dean? Like, a singular nickname that his daddies call him? Cause I can't think of *anything* if you haven't already caught onto the boribg nicknames that have been appearing. 

I would love to have a name to give him for the next update, so I would love your input! Please! (If you need an insentive, ifI pick yours I'll write you into the story somehow!) 

This is just something that's been bugging me. 

Also, imma delete this chapter when I add the new one.

Thanks guys! You're the best!


	14. Dean Doesn't do Dinner Parties

Company parties such as this one had always been a thing for the Law offices of Smith and Wesson; although not quite to this caliber. When Sam and Brady had first started their firm they were renting a 900 square foot office space downtown and couldn’t even afford to hire even a part time receptionist.

After years of working their asses off they came to the conclusion that the pride and originality that came with owning their own firm wasn’t worth the miniscule paychecks and constant hours away from home so they had bought into a larger company.

They were allowed to keep their name and the larger company would kick work their way for a cut of the payoffs.

Swallowing their pride had truly paid off as the amount of work and commissions coming in had allowed them to put more than a dozen extra people onto the payroll – including their much desired receptionist. The increased staff called for a bigger office space, which had turned into a more professional look. 

Winning this latest case would prove to his and Brady’s boss at The Firm – because lawyers were creative when it came to naming their companies – that they were capable of taking on more high profile cases; which of course meant bigger dollar signs. 

In order to paint the portrait of an office that had decent pockets Sam had Andrea – the offices’ receptionist – rent out one of the city’s classier restaurants in order to impress the higher ups that had been invited. Sam wanted everyone in attendance to think that the law offices of Smith and Wesson were formidable and relentless in their success. 

However, not everyone was impressed with the five star restaurant that averaged 25 dollars a plate.

“No!”

Sam tried not to laugh at his husband who was struggling over the fact that Dean was outright refusing to eat any of the 18 dollar children’s plate of macaroni and cheese that they had ordered for him. Every time that Cas had made an attempt to feed a bite to Dean he was met with a pouty face and a disgruntled ‘No.’

Cas scrubbed at his face and pushed Dean’s plate away before tucking into his own meal. His husband was able to eat two bites of his grilled chicken before Dean came to the startling realization that his Papa wasn’t paying him any more attention; something that made him decidedly unhappy.

Dean grunted and held his arms out before crying “Ah?” and neither man was stupid enough to flirt with a temper tantrum at that time. 

“C’mere monster,” Cas sighed pulling Dean out of the restaurant provided high chair. 

Cas settled the little boy atop of his thighs and was about to lean forward to begin eating once again when Dean pointed back at his high chair and squealed out a “Ruh!”

Sam turned to grab Dean’s turtle from the highchair; the boy had been clutching the thing all night. Even if Dean hadn’t Sam and Cas both knew what Dean meant whenever he said ‘ruh’.

Dean obviously had a name for the toy that he was unable to share with them.

Sam handed Dean the turtle, clad in his own formal outfit and sporting a bib to match Dean’s, while doing his best to ignore the looks the other people at the table were giving them. It was no secret to anyone who paid enough attention that Dean appeared to be an advanced little boy. 

He understood everything someone had to say, and was even able to pronounce some of the more difficult sounds due to sense memory from when he was an adult.

As soon as Sam handed over the turtle Dean latched on and buried his face in the soft material at the top to rub his nose in it a few times. 

Sam chuckled and went back to eating the salad he had ordered for himself. 

He heard Cas sigh and whisper to him “we almost ready to go yet?” 

Sam scoffed, “no. I haven’t had time to schmooze yet.”

“Well get to schmoozing,” Cas said, “drink some scotch, work the tables. Yuck it up with the bald big wigs.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Cas, we’ve barely been here for an hour.”

“And you and I both know that even that long has been pushing our luck with you know who.”

Sam glanced over to see bright green eyes staring between the two of them. Their usually well-tempered little boy hadn’t made life at this dinner easy for them. 

It started with the clothing, then it had been the fact that Dean blew raspberries during Sam’s introductions of his family to some of the people he had meant to talk shop with throughout the dinner – loud enough to draw everyone’s eyes and to make Sam start over again. Then Dean had been so clingy on Sam that they couldn’t get him into the highchair, which then led to Dean wanting to be put down. After that it was the refusal to eat, and now Sam could see that Dean would be latched to Cas for the next half an hour or so before Dean started edging toward melt-down territory. 

It seems that though they had given Dean an extra-long nap that day that their little boy was still slipping toward tired and cranky. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said standing up and taking a final swig of the celebratory champaign that had been left at all of the tables. “I’m going to go find Mr. Westerfall and see what I can do.”

He pressed a kiss to Cas’ lips and to the top of Dean’s head. 

“You be good for Papa, okay monkey?”

Dean looked up at him with a glare in his eyes.

“Dean doesn’t want to be a monkey,” Cas said absently. 

“Well that’s too bad,” Sam cooed crouching down to be eye level with his son, “cause Daddy loves his little monkey-butt.” Sam pressed his lips to Dean’s cheek and started making farty-kissing sounds.

Dean started smiling and chuckled as Sam kept kissing his cheek. He pulled away when Dean’s little hand started batting at his head. 

“See?” Sam said motioning to Dean’s laughter-pinked cheeks. “He loves being Daddy’s monkey.”

With another kiss to both of his boys he was off to the bar.

*****

Sam had been gone for only about half an hour. Long enough for Dean to realize that Daddy wasn’t there and to step over into silent grump mode. They were the only two at the table now, as everyone else had decided to step away once Dean started grabbing Cas’ silverware and smacking it against the table cloth. 

At the moment it was the only thing that was keeping Dean occupied, but the persistent hitting was grating on Cas’ nerves.

“Okay, okay,” Cas said grabbing onto Dean’s arm, “Let’s try something else sweetheart.”

Dean grunted and whined when Cas pulled the spoon away from his delicate fingers, so he quickly leaned over and grabbed an interactive toy out of the diaper bag. It was a toy meant for babies who were mentally seven months old, but he was hoping that the toy could keep his attention for a few minutes just so that he wouldn’t have to listen to the sound of the spoon against the table. 

It was a plastic board with soft Velcro patches that allowed the shapes to detach from the board and be placed back on over the matching painted on shape. It was meant to help infants learn their shapes, and though Dean already knew them the little boy found entertainment in taking the shapes off and putting them back on.

Dean was babbling quietly to himself with his turtle under one arm and the hand of his other arm holding onto a green triangle he had pulled off. 

Cas shifted around in his seat. He’d downed the champaign along with two glasses of coke, and he seriously needed to make an escape to the restroom. He was hesitant to disrupt Dean’s play though and was willing to put up with it for a while if it meant that Dean would stay quiet and behaved.

He shifted again and smiled down at Dean when the little boy reached up to pat at his face. 

“I’m okay,” he assured him. 

Dean smiled and went back to pulling shapes off of the board.

“Mr. Wesson?”

Cas turned to see an older woman in a floor length navy dress approach him. “Mrs. Westerfall?” 

The woman smiled and held out her hand, so Cas stood up – pulling Dean away from his toy – and shook hands.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Dean grunted and the woman’s eyes landed on Dean in Cas’ arms. 

“Well who is this handsome little boy?”

“This is Dean,” Cas said bringing Dean up higher in his arms.

“Dean,” Mrs. Westerfall repeated “what a gorgeous little boy.”

Cas saw an opening, and though he knew Dean wouldn’t be too thrilled with it he was too desperate not to take it. 

“Would you mind holding Dean for a moment?” Cas said offering the little boy up to the woman. “I need to run to the bathroom and --.”

“Speak no more, I was going to ask if I could hold him anyway,” she said holding her hands out to take Dean.

“Thanks, I’ll be right back,” Cas said before walking off without a second glance. 

He wasn’t worried about leaving Dean with Mrs. Westerfall. The woman was harmless. He _was_ worried about Dean’s reaction to being left alone for a few minutes. So he made it to the bathroom as quickly as he could, it was unfortunate for him that the small restaurant bathroom had a line and he had to wait before he could make it back to the main room to rescue his little boy.

Cas was still drying his hands on his pants and walking down the hall when he heard the sounds of Dean’s strong cries. 

“Shit,” he swore jogging into the room. He hadn’t been quick enough apparently, and now his little boy was crying in distress.

*****

The night had been a colossal fuck up. And Dean refused to take the blame for it. It wasn’t his fault that Daddy and Papa had dragged him off to the stuffiest eatery he had ever been to. And then Papa wanted Dean to eat macaroni, and while he was hungry he wasn’t in the mood for macaroni. He wanted his bottle and he wanted his pajamas. 

Then Daddy had wandered off – and the fuck was the deal with that? – and it had been just he and Papa at the table, but Dean was bored. He started smacking Papa’s spoon on the table to show his displeasure. 

Papa had replaced the spoon with some ridiculous baby game with shapes and colors, Dean wasn’t an idiot. Red square went to red square, green triangle went to green – damnit, that thing was actually kind of fun…

It was satisfying to put the green triangle on the Velcro and pulling it back off just to hear the scratchy noise it made when he tore it off.

But before Dean could properly have fun with the little green triangle he was holding in his hand Papa was standing up and shaking hands with some old woman in a dress. She smelled like thick perfume and her face was really wrinkly. 

He was focused on examining the woman, when he should have been paying attention to what Papa was saying because one minute he was happily ensconced in his Papa’s arms and the next he was in the arms of the older woman he was wary of.

“Uhn,” he whined, turning in the woman’s arms to see his Papa scamper away from him.

What the shit?

“What’s wrong handsome man?”

Dean turned his glare up at the woman, but logically knew that any face he made would be interpreted as _cute_ as opposed to scolding.

“Aren’t you just precious! Do you want to go for a walk sugar?”

He figured that if she wasn’t going to listen to his face that maybe he would listen to his fist. He still had Raphael is his arms, and so he used the toy as a defense, holding it to block his face from the woman. 

She made a few attempts to push the stuffed toy out of the way, leading Dean to grunt and grizzle and her hand moving his toy. It was _his_ turtle, and he’d shove it wherever he damn well pleased – her face included. 

Using Raphael as a shield didn’t work too long, as the woman tired of Dean’s antics and merely plucked the toy from his hands. 

“Let’s leave this dirty thing behind,” the woman continued before she _took_ his turtle, took _Raphael_ from him and left him behind on Dean’s empty high chair.

“Ruh?” he pleaded, arms outstretched toward the stuffed toy as the woman walked away.

He felt his eyes start to glisten. At the beginning of this nightmare he said he would be okay so long as he had four certain things; his turtle, his pacifier, and his two daddies. His pacifier had been the first thing to leave him – as he had kept stuffing it in his mouth to avoid Papa’s fork of macaroni and cheese – then his Daddy, then Papa ditches him, and now this cold hearted witch was taking his turtle too?

Dean so wasn’t putting up with this shit.

“Nuh-NO!” he bawled, fisting his hands in the material of her expensive dress as she carried him away.

“You’re fine Dean,” she said, her voice too high pitched as she maneuvered them through the labyrinth of tables. He wasn’t confident in his ability to get back to their table should he escape, hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could walk in these baby shoes…

The woman sat down elegantly at a table that held a few other women all about the same age as him.

“Well who is this charmer?”  
“You got a new date Susan?”  
“Aren’t you cute!”

He was being descended upon by wrinkled vultures!

The one who currently hand her hands on him turned him around on her lap and held him with her too cold, bony hands. He could sure go for Daddy’s warm paws right about now.

He could feel his lips puckering and quivering in an undignified pout, and a tear rolled down his cheek. 

The women at the table were all at least in their late fifties; most of them no doubt married to the schmucks that Daddy was yucking it up with at the bar. They all smelled like stale perfume and hairspray, and the one closest to the woman holding him smelled strongly of tequila. The old broads were harmless in reality – though Dean was wary of cheek-pinching fingers. 

Harmless or not he wanted Daddy and Papa. Heading the meeting of the old ladies’ club had definitely _not_ been on the agenda for the night. And if it had been Dean would have kicked up a _much_ bigger fuss than the one he had already given. 

The crones were worrying themselves over Dean’s tears, but he paid them no attention, he was too busy scoping the room out for a sight of floppy brown hair or piercing blue eyes. However it seemed that his daddies had sat themselves in a remote corner at their original table, as he had been unaware at the sheer number of people in the room and the size of the room itself.

How many people had Daddy invited to this thing anyway?

He wasn’t under the impression that they had ditched him – a conclusion he would have come to a month ago when he still questioned their dedication to him. No, he knew this was a temporary situation. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

“Do you think he’s wet?” made it to his ears and he knew he had to jump ship. Code Red! Non-Ah-Dah personal attempting to check his diaper! Take precautionary measure number one; physical defiance.

Just as Dean felt the creeping bony hand move across his back Dean lurched forward towards the woman’s knees. He was able to disrupt her hands long enough that she had to adjust to capture Dean, which didn’t leave time for cold hands to wander to his private regions. 

“Dean!” the woman exclaimed, hoisting him back up onto her lap.

She situated him with an arm curled around his back and ducked her head to stare into his face. “What’s got your diaper in a bunch? Do you need a change?”

Bony fingers were back on a quest. 

Precautionary number two; scream.

It had worked on his grandpa once before, and though Dean was loathe to cause a scene in such an upscale place and embarrass his Daddy in front of his coworkers he was _not_ about to let the cold hands of death touch his fresh bottom!

“NO!” he screamed before reaching the perfect pitch for wailing that kids Dean’s age were experts at hitting. He screamed and cried, making sure to throw in plenty of ‘Ahs’ and ‘Das’ into the mix. 

Throughout his crying he felt tears streaming down his bunched up cheeks, and he could tell that the woman who was holding him was moving him about to try and offer him some comfort, but her hands weren’t his daddies hands, and he wasn’t about to pick up on anything that she put down.

Just as Dean was taking in a breath to belt out another desperate cry he heard and felt the two best things that he could have asked for in that moment; Papa saying his name and Daddy’s hands reaching under his armpits to hoist him into his arms.

Dean opened his shut eyes and took shaky breaths as he croaked, “Ah? Dah?” he hadn’t even realized how hard his heart was pounding until the sight of those two men put a stop to it. Apparently being without them frightened him more than he thought it did. 

He took a deep breath before throwing his arms around Daddy’s neck and holding the man close. In return Daddy snuggled him back and cooed right into his ear, “You’re okay Dean. It’s okay.”

Dean head Papa approach him from behind and Daddy transferred him from his arms to Papa’s so that the older man could offer his own comfort, though Dean continued holding the man’s jacket. Dean continued snuffling and breathing shakily until Daddy produced a napkin from somewhere and dried off his face.

“Better?”

Dean shook his head no.

“What do you need monkey?” his Daddy asked, and he couldn’t even fight the nickname with how he was holding onto the two men. 

“Ruh?” Dean asked pathetically. Sue him, he liked his damn turtle. 

“We’ll go get your turtle Dean,” Papa said, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he gently pulled Dean’s fingers from Daddy’s jacket. “Go ahead Sam, I got this,” he said as he took a step back.

“You sure?” Daddy asked his other father.

“Yes.”

Dean hunkered down in his older father’s arms and looked around lazily as the man made his way back to their table. He could hear the sounds of his Daddy talking to the table of crones; offering an explanation or apologizing for his behavior, either way, he didn’t care. 

Papa’s walk was much more fluid, as if he was dancing between the tables, where the older woman’s had been much more of a strut; Papa carried Dean like he was a treasure, where the woman had carried him like an accessory. It had taken a few weeks of being constantly carried around for Dean to feel the difference.

Point is, by the time Papa had returned them back to the table he was relaxed and calm. Head down on Papa’s shoulders and eyes opened lazily. He was content to doze in the man’s arms until they had to leave, and would gladly choose it as an option. 

Once back at their seats Papa cuddled him close and dipped to put the diaper bag on the table. He barely paid attention to Papa as he rooted through the bag to find something, and once it had been found he felt Papa’s arms move around and shake vigorously for a few seconds until Dean was turned around and laid in Papa’s arms before the nipple of a bottle was offered to him.

 _Thank fuck._ Something he wanted to see. 

He latched on with a tired sigh and looked up. His Papa was staring down at him with that sweet, blank expression that accompanied his daddies’ faces whenever they were staring at him in contentment and thinking about daddy-things. It was the faces they usually wore while feeding him.

Dean returned the look, studying his older father, the crinkles by his eyes and the stubble along his jaw. Thinking unimportant thoughts about one of the two men who cared so much for him.

He paused in his sucking once as Papa adjusted him – these chairs had no arm rests – and finished sucking his bottle quicker to make Papa’s life a little easier. 

After that he dozed contentedly on Papa’s shoulder until Daddy called it a night. And true to the taller man’s promise his favorite pair of pajamas awaited him when they returned back to the car. 

On the way home Dean was comfortable in his car seat. His toes were bare, and he wiggled them freely, he was sucking on his pacifier and his head was pillowed on Raphael’s belly. The dinner had sucked, but listening to the words that his Daddy excitedly spoke throughout what part of the drive home he remained conscious for he could tell that the night had at least been successful on one front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made my decision on nicknames. And you guys have helped me SO MUCH! I *loved* all of the names that you guys have given me. As you can see I made the decision to go with monkey butt for Sam (monkey more often than the full monkey butt) it was a name my friend gave me. And I know Dean told Cas in chapter two he didn't want to be monkey, but as you can see Sam is stubborn! As for Cas' nickname (cause I decided they should each have one) you will hopefully discover next chapter!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!


	15. Dean's! My! Cherry! Pie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be longer, but I got excited and decided to post this chunk sooner :) 
> 
> (BTdubs, I've been constructing these chapters from suggestions, so thank you to those who have given one to me)
> 
> Special thanks to SamGirlDeanCurious & Ihaveathingforolderhotguys for the gift of one of the scenes that appears in this chapter, and if it weren't for this duo we wouldn't have Cas' nickname which should appear in the next chapter, I swear! 
> 
> (Note: they weren't the only ones to suggest this nickname, but they kind of gave me a road map to how to introduce it, for which I am very grateful!)
> 
> Enjoy!

Cas sighed and shifted in bed, trying his best to not disturb the two other occupants. Sam was on the far side of the bed and the two men were separated by a large pillow which held Dean on it. 

The little boy was all askance. Arms and legs thrown about and sprawled open in sleep. He looked peaceful at the moment, which was a far cry from where he had been not an hour prior. 

Another nightmare had woken Dean up a few hours ago, and this one had shaken the little boy so much that it took his and Sam’s combined efforts to calm him down once he was awake. And even after that they hadn’t been able to convince Dean to go back down in his crib. It had been Sam’s idea to bring Dean to bed with them, an idea neither man was necessarily comfortable with. 

They were both full-sized men, Sam especially, and Dean was such a little guy that they feared smothering him should he join them in bed. But it had been the only option to appease the terrified little boy, and after propping him up on pillows it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. 

That didn’t mean that Cas was sleeping easy however, he was still mulling over the fact that Dean had been having such bad nightmares lately. Had Dean been a regular seven month old neither he nor Sam would have given it much thought. Babes were often frightened in their sleep. But Dean was no ordinary seven month old, which meant that if his dreams were bad enough to leave him scared, then they were thoroughly worrisome.

Cas shifted again, this time onto his side so that he could watch the soft rise and fall of Dean’s chest. He reached out to lay one of his large fingers over Dean’s – Sam hadn’t been lying when he had said that Dean’s fingers were no longer clenched in sleep – and he smiled at Dean’s natural reaction to curl his little fingers around his. 

Dean had a strong grip.

Cas used the thumb of the hand being held hostage by his son to feel the soft curve of the boy’s cheek. 

Dean huffed a sigh, and his lips popped open, followed by the soft clicking sound of Dean trying to suckle around air. They hadn’t plugged him up with his pacifier when they brought him to their room as Dean had been too fussy to accept the object which he usually sought so freely. 

He startled slightly when Sam’s arm came up and pushed Dean’s pacifier in place between his pink-pouted lips. 

He had thought the other man to be asleep. 

“Thi’kin too loud,” Sam mumbled into his pillow. 

Figures the other man knew he was awake.

“Can’t sleep,” Cas replied softly, never stopping in his brushing along Dean’s cheek.

Sam took in a deep breath as he woke up a little more and sat up higher to consider Cas over the top of Dean. His hair was all sleep ruffled and in the soft light from their adjoining bathroom Cas could see the crinkles surrounding his nearly shut eyes.

“Spill,” his husband demanded.

“I just can’t help but worry Sam.”

“Every parent worries Cas.”

“This is different and you know it,” Cas snapped. Then took a deep breath to calm himself. “He was a _hunter_ Sam, and while the two of us don’t know everything about that we know enough to realize that Dean shouldn’t be so easily scared. I’m worried that something is bothering him that we don’t know about.”

“Well what do you suggest we do?”

Cas looked back down to Dean. His soft face glowed in the light from the bathroom. His wispy blonde hair fanned out over the pillow and his bright eyes – closed in sleep – were fanned by the most delicate of eye lashes that fanned out over his cheek. 

Dean looked very much like a seven month old child. Like someone who needed protection. And Cas detested that he couldn’t give him everything he deserved.

“I dunno.”

Sam reached out and cupped his cheek.

“We’ll figure it out,” Sam said before pulling back and lying down on his pillow. “There’s no point losing sleep over it now though, not when we’re going to have monster to deal with in the morning.”

Cas smiled and moved his hand to rest across Dean’s tummy. 

“I thought he was Daddy’s monkey?”

A scoff, followed by, “Two hours of lost sleep? He ain’t gonna be Daddy’s monkey, he’s going to be _our_ monster.”

Cas rolled his eyes and tried to get back to sleep. Sam was probably right.

About both things.

*****

Cas was busy doing his everyday routine. Washing dishes, vacuuming, mopping, dusting. Folding a load of laundry. All of the little things that he does between breakfast and lunch. Right down to putting Dean in the jumper so that he could catch a few reruns of Dr. Sexy.

The morning had all been so routine that Cas hadn’t even realized that Sam’s late night prediction of Dean being a monster hadn’t come true. 

He deposited the laundry basket of freshly folded baby paraphernalia at the bottom of the steps to be taken upstairs and walked into the living room to spy his little boy.

Dr. Sexy was rolling on-screen like always, but Dean wasn’t paying it any attention. He wasn’t even moving around in his jumper. Instead, he was staying put, legs hanging loosely and one hand fisted under his chin. His poor little boy was bored.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said walking further into the living room. Bright green eyes looked up at him. “you bored?”

Dean didn’t need to answer his question, his body language said it all, but Dean responded back with an affirmative sounding baby babble.

Cas pulled Dean from the jumper and tried to think of something Dean could do. The poor thing couldn’t get lost in mindless games like other babies could, he just hadn’t fallen into that deep of a mindset yet. He needed something more stimulating and active to capture his attention, and Cas just had no idea what that was.

“How about you stick with Papa today, I have a few more chores to finish before I’m done for the day. Does that sound okay?”

Dean gives a resigned sigh from behind his pacifier and allows Cas to bring him over to the stairs. 

The boy had already showed numerous times his ability to crawl up the stairway whenever Cas hadn’t wanted him to, and so he was unsurprised that upon hearing his Papa’s approval that Dean scampered up the stairs as if they had issued him a personal challenge. Cas walked up behind him, laundry basket perched on his hip as he monitored Dean pulling and pushing himself up the stairs.

“Good job, now, to your bedroom!” Cas steered him, following along behind the small boy who crawled across the carpet, knees poking out at the sides as he crawled.

Cas couldn’t help but chuckle at Dean’s awkward waddle. The boy crawled nothing like a normal seven month old, his knees always went out at the sides whenever he lifted his legs, and Cas just thought it was the cutest thing.

Dean was capable of taking a few steps at a time, but he wasn’t able to push his leg muscles into making walking a viable transportation option yet. However, Dean had never seemed to be a fan of crawling. He and Sam always cooed over Dean’s soft little knees which always seemed to be the body part that got tender whenever the boy crawled. Of course if he wouldn’t thunder across the floor, and started crawling like a normal baby…

They took a right into Dean’s nursery and made their way up to the dresser.

“C’mere De,” Cas said scooping the little boy up. He shifted Dean around and held him facing forward in his arm before opening the top drawer of the dresser, “here,” Cas offered grabbing a stack of Dean’s clothes. “I’ve gotta put the clean clothes away, can you put these in the drawer for me?”

Dean nodded and chirruped as he grabbed the first item on the stack; Dean’s favorite blue plaid khaki shorts. He held the clothing item with both hands, studying the shorts before dropping them into the drawer. Cas fixed the shorts before offering the small stack to Dean again.

Cas smiled and kissed Dean’s crown intermittently as the little boy succeeded in unfolding each item he put in the drawers. It took an insanely long period of time to get the clean clothes put away, but it kept Dean entertained – marginally – and it kept Cas company as he worked.

He made sure to keep Dean in the loop of what he had going on to keep the bored look off his son’s face.

“Alright monkey,” Cas said trying out the moniker just to see the expected glare in the young boy’s eyes. “Can Papa not get away with that name?”

“No,” Dean responded, and the word sounded like he was thinking _silly Papa, that’s Daddy’s name for me_.

Cas chuckled as he finished packing the diaper bag. “Well, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call you,” he said throwing his hands up. “I don’t know your name.”

Dean giggled as he sucked and gummed at a sugar free wafer. They’d eaten lunch about an hour ago, but were expecting a late dinner, and so he was sure to give the boy small long-lasting snacks to avoid hunger fueled fussing.

“Well, I’m all packed, you ready to go whoever-you-are?” he asked turning to look at Dean where he was being held in his highchair.

Dean smiled up at Cas, mouth open to expose the four front teeth that had cropped up during his teething.

“Oh Dean,” Cas cooed at the sight of his son’s toothy smile. “You are too precious!”

Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head. 

An effective _No I’m not Papa._

“Yeah you are,” he repeated picking the little boy up and grabbing the diaper bag.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Cas walked out to the garage, to their rarely used second car. A small sedan that didn’t always agree with Sam’s long legs, but it was a hybrid and was Cas’ car – unless Sam was feeling particularly eco-friendly that day, in which case Sam took the hybrid over his own monster of an SUV. 

He buckled Dean in the car seat and then rigged up their IPad to a screen protector cover that hooked around the back of the passenger headrest.

“I downloaded a movie for you to watch, we’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us and I don’t want you getting bored.”

“Ah?”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“Wuh Dah?”

Cas looked down into his son’s bright eyes, “wuh Dah?” he repeated, having discovered that when he repeated Dean’s sounds that he was more likely to catch on to what he was attempting to say. “Where’s Daddy?” he tried.

“Yuh.”

“He’s going to meet us there,” he answered.

Dean sighed and went back to watching Cas’ hands work on the IPad. Neither man had felt comfortable telling Dean where they were going. They didn’t want him worrying beforehand, and though not knowing would cause some stress it wouldn’t quite be the amount that would surely accompany Dean should he find out that it was Sam’s cousin Sarah that they were visiting.

Early that morning when Cas was still fretting over the intensity of Dean’s frequent nightmares he had broached the subject with Sam. They were careful to keep the conversation quiet and confined to the bathroom as the two showered together so they could talk without Dean listening. 

It had been Cas’ idea to go to Sarah in the first place. As a witch she had the ability to get inside of Dean’s head – in a totally safe way – in order to uncover what their boy was thinking. 

From a parenting standpoint it was totally cheating. Other parents were in the dark when it came to the internal psychological goings-on of their children, and those children all grew up splendidly.

But Cas could give two shits about other people’s children. This was _his_ little boy that they were talking about, and if he had to traverse the Tibetan mountains to find a monk who would cure the ailment of his son then he would do so. 

Fortunately for him his problem could be solved with a three hour car ride to St. Louis. 

“Alright, you all set?” he asked fully knowing that he had a few things to hand his son. 

“No.”

“What am I missing Dean bean?”

“Ruh.”

“Turtle,” Cas repeated stuffing the turtle alongside of Dean in the car seat where he liked to have it.

“Ba?”

“Bottle,” he placed a bottle of diluted apple juice in the cup holder. “Anything else?”

Dean shook his head. 

“Then let’s shove off, eh?” he said before leaning forward and clicking the play button on the IPad and the movie started up.

Dean cooed appreciatively when the first movie of the Lord of the Rings trilogy appeared on screen. There was literally nothing about the movie that was appropriate for a seven month old, but from the gleam in Dean’s eyes Cas could tell that it was a good choice. 

Hopefully it would hold his attention until the little boy fell asleep.

Cas shut Dean’s door and hopped in the driver’s seat. He had to ignore the niggles he felt thinking that he had forgotten something. It was due to the fact that Sam was the one traveling with their suitcases. It had been a long morning resulting in a phone call to Sarah where she quickly said yes to their question of if she could help them out, and then an even quicker response of “tonight!” when they asked the earliest that they could come out.

After hearing that Cas spent ten minutes shoving a suitcase together for the three of them – it was only for one night – before hiding the bag in Sam’s car. 

Sam was going to leave work a few hours early to get to Sarah’s before he and Dean. It was so that Sam could sleep for a few hours before they arrived, as Sam would be leaving early the next morning to get to work on time – it was also why they were taking two cars. 

Traveling with a baby was never smooth and he didn’t want Sam’s work to be effected more than it had to. The stress that being cooped up in a car with Dean could provide had the potential to make Sam – and Cas – irritable and crabby. Better if only one of them suffered that.

*****

They had been driving in the car for just above an hour when Cas looked back to see Dean conked out in his sleep, movie still playing. He reached back – eyes still on the road – and tapped the IPad’s screen, pausing the movie and allowing the screen to black out and power down while the little boy napped.

In the silence left behind Cas turned on the radio and left the volume low as he scanned the stations for a classic rock song that he thought Dean would like.

It took a couple of tries, but he eventually found a station playing a song that even he recognized. 

_She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water such a sweet surprise! Taste so good make a grown man cry. Sweet. Cherry. Pie!…_

Cas chuckled to himself and listened to the song play softly through the speakers. 

It wasn’t until about the third time through the chorus that he heard soft grunting coming from Dean while he was sleeping. He hurriedly shut off the radio; afraid that the song had woke him up. It wasn’t until Dean grunted oddly a few more times that Cas realized _Dean was singing!_

He had heard the little boy sing in his sleep before, but he had never realized that he sang the songs that he had heard playing on the radio.

It was a poorly done version, and very far off tune, but Dean was singing the chorus to Warrant’s Cherry Pie.

Cas smiled as he looked between the highway and the rearview mirror to watch Dean’s lips move in time to his grunted words. 

It was the _cutest_ thing he had ever seen his little boy do. 

*****

Dean felt himself be physically shaken and jerked awake. He was scared and confused for a moment until he recognized that he was in Papa’s car. Papa was in the driver’s seat, grimacing as he steered the car. The older man’s blue eyes flashed to Dean’s in the rearview mirror and Papa uttered out an apology.

“We’re in a construction zone, I’m sorry I woke you up. Papa tried avoiding all of the bumps.”

Dean grunted to let the other man know he had heard his explanation.

He shifted around in his car seat, he had sagged down in the harness, and pushed himself up in a better sitting position. The uncomfortable squish he felt between his legs alerted to him that he was wet, an entirely uncomfortable situation to be in, but he had more pressing matters.

“Ah?” he chirruped, and realized that his wafer had gone missing. He searched the folds of his clothes for the snack as he waited for his Papa’s reply.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

He grunted and pointed to the IPad – he had never had the time to actually sit down and see an entire Lord of the Rings movie, so he was not about to miss out on this opportunity.

“You want the movie back on?”

“Yuh.”

“Just a second,” Papa replied – no doubt they were still in the construction zone and Papa didn’t want to be distracted as he turned the movie back on.

Dean sighed when he found the strawberry flavored wafer tucked in his crotch before stuffing the end he had been gnawing on in his mouth. He still had no idea where Papa was taking them. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that it had nothing to do with him. He was the one that Papa and Daddy were sneaking around, so of course it had to do with him. 

Once upon a time he would have been nervous that they were setting about preparations to send Dean away to live with someone else, but now he was convinced that they were doing some ridiculous daddy thing that they found necessary and that he would find pointless.

His musing was interrupted as Papa reached back with one arm and blindly started the movie back up again. Papa was pretty cool like that.

Forty five more minutes passed by where Dean was totally absorbed in the adventures of Frodo Baggins and company. He was so enraptured with the movie that he hadn’t even realized that they were pulling to a stop, or that the large figure approaching the door was Daddy.

“Hey monkey!” he heard Daddy’s voice say as his door was opened.

Dean was still sucking on his wafer – though it was thoroughly disgusting with spit at this point – and grunted a “Da” from behind it.

“You sure don’t seem that happy to see me,” Daddy said as he started unbuckling him. And – hey! – stop blocking the screen sasquatch!

He must have grumbled something out in a displeased tone as Daddy responded with “Sorry, let me get you out and we can keep watching this huh?”

Dean could get behind that idea.

He put up with Daddy’s paws long enough to be unbuckled before he was held on Daddy’s hip and the IPad was held in Daddy’s other hand.

Daddy and Papa were whispering to each other as they walked somewhere – and Dean hadn’t even thought to look up yet. He had never realized how great this movie was.

Dean spared all of two seconds to hear that his daddies had caught onto his wet diaper. Good. He wanted them to know he needed changing, but was too preoccupied with telling them himself. 

He could tell that the movie was coming to an end. Five more minutes and they could have his attention. Five more minutes.

His eyes remained open and vigilant – on the screen – to finish paying attention to the movie until the credits started to roll. Apparently Daddy had been paying attention too, cause when the names started scrolling on the screen Daddy tapped the surface and paused it.

Dean finally looked up and studied their new surroundings as he gummed his wafer.

They were in a hotel room – a pretty snazzy one – but a hotel room no less. Papa was laying Dean’s stuff out near a hotel issued crib and was changing the sheets into the second set that Papa had bought for him. He could hear the older man grumbling something about dirty sheets and “not for _my_ baby boy,” as he worked.

Dean rolled his eyes. 

The IPad was laid on one of the beds and Dean soon followed, he politely tucked up his knees knowing that Daddy was going in for a diaper change and focused on holding the wafer with two hands so he could beaver-gnaw at his treat.

It wasn’t until the tabs of his diaper had been ripped open that Dean realized that there was a third person in the room.

“Cas how long was he sitting?” Daddy asked concerned as Dean’s diaper was pulled free.

“Not long.”

“He’s got the beginning of a diaper rash,” Daddy scolded Papa.

“How? He wasn’t wet for long.”

Oops. Dean hadn’t considered that his decision to wait out his wet diaper could be misconstrued as Papa’s fault.

Dean was about to make amends when Daddy distracted his thoughts with a “Sarah, can you get the diaper rash cream for me?”

Wait? Sarah!

Dean’s head whipped to the side so freaking fast he was surprised it didn’t pop off, and sure enough the woman who was the reason behind Dean wearing a diaper in the first place was digging through the puffy blue bag that contained all the magical ingredients that made sure he stayed baby fresh.

“YuH!” he shrieked, pointing an accusatory wafer-glob covered finger in the woman’s direction. It was an effective _“you bitch!”_ if the woman’s reaction was any indication.

“I know Dean, I’m probably not on your good list right now,” the woman said, approaching the bed brandishing a tube of cream that she handed to Daddy.

Dean was all set to tear into her, verbally, physically – didn’t matter, but his efforts were held up on account of Daddy’s hands holding his ankles together and lifting his naked butt up to the room at large.

“Daaah!” he whined. Which everyone knew translated to _“Daddy stop embarrassing me! I need to be scary right now!”_

Daddy chuckled and smeared cream all over Dean’s butt and groin with his large warm hands.

“Down you vicious attack dog,” Daddy said to his squirmings. Dean wasn’t sure what kind of damage a seven month old could do in terms of bodily harm, but he was raring to find out.

Cream on and diaper in place Dean flipped over on the bed and crawled to the edge, prepared to give the woman a piece of his mind when Daddy scooped him up and hauled him backwards.

He was thinking _“let me at her, let me at her,”_ as Daddy placated him with warm soothing hands.

“Alright _monster_ ,” Daddy admonished. And Dean calmed down at that. Lately Daddy and Papa had started calling him that whenever he was difficult.

Dean allowed himself to fall backwards and cozied up to Daddy’s chest. There has to be a good reason for this, he would give his daddies one chance to give a good explanation and if it wasn’t good enough for him then he’d _earn_ the name monster. 

He turned his baby glare on his daddies, and he knew the look on his face demanded an explanation. 

Papa was sitting at a small table by the small kitchenette and Daddy carried him over to join them. The three of them sat at the table and Sarah – probably in a bid to keep her distance from Dean – sat at the foot of the bed. 

“Okay Dean,” Daddy was saying rubbing his belly in soothing circles, “I’m guessing you know my cousin Sarah at this point,” Daddy said without looking to the woman on the bed.

Sarah was a woman in her late twenties. Soft brown hair a similar color to Sam’s that went mid-arm – so, fairly long –Dean had learned that during the day she did data entry work. Nothing that suggested she dabbled in magic at night.

A few months prior when Dean had been investigating the St. Louis area for paranormal deaths he had come to two possible conclusions; a witch or a cursed object. 

He checked out the victims; an older woman and her grandson who had both died in ways indeterminable to the mortician. The only person that Dean had come up with had been Sarah; she worked with the woman and lived next door to the grandson. 

It had been a strange series of coincidences that two people plagued by a cursed decorative statue of a Native American owl were also in vicinity of an active witch. Cause usually in Dean’s line of work there were never two supernatural forces at work in the same town at once.

So Dean had gone after both to ensure that whichever theory it turned out to be that he had eliminated the threat completely.

He went out at night – because whoever in the hell hunted during the day? – and broke into the grandson’s apartment. He torched the owl and made a quick trip across the hall into Sarah’s apartment to do some recon on the witch. 

He had been investigating her supplies, trying to figure out if she had the supplies necessary to kill people before he decided whether or not she needed offing – when she had snuck up and threw dust in his face.

Dean remembered fighting the puff of smoke for a few seconds before he dropped. Next thing he knew he was waking up in the hospital.

Now here he was, more than two months later, content with his daddies and comfortable in his new life and he was torn on whether or not he should try to rip out the woman’s hair or succumb to the temptation of thanking her for his new chance at life.

Daddy continued to rub his belly and kept talking oblivious to Dean’s internal thoughts.

“We decided to meet with Sarah today because of your nightmares,” Daddy explained.

“We’ve been so worried about you Dean,” Papa jumped in, “your Daddy and I want to know what’s got you so scared at night, so we asked Sarah if she could help us out.”

“Uh?” Dean grunted, wanting to know what exactly it was that Sarah was going to do to his grapefruit.

Sarah leaned forward on the bed and started talking, “it’s really easy Dean, I promise. I’m going to do a simple spell that will put you out for a little bit and will allow me to get inside your head and answer some questions for your daddies. Okay?”

Okay? Was she asking him if this was okay? Cause he wasn’t okay with this. He wanted to give this woman a piece of his mind, and was going to until he looked up into Daddy’s eyes. 

Daddy looked so concerned for him. Crap – perhaps Papa looked better. He turned his head. Nope. Papa looked just as worried.

Double crap.

He cared too much about his daddies to let them down, he could tell that they were desperate to get some insight into Dean’s thoughts if they were asking Sarah for help. It wasn’t just that though, it was the fact that they were so concerned _for him_ that had him changing his mind. Sure, he had been with them for a few months and had experienced the genuine feelings of love and concern that they had for him, but he kept waiting for those feelings to expire. To reach their limit. He kept waiting for the day that his daddies no longer enjoyed having him as their little boy. 

He felt himself shiver. Praying that that day would never come. 

They were doing this for him, so that they could better provide for him, the _least_ he could do was roll with it.

“Oh-hey,” he agreed.

After that his daddies gave him kisses to his forehead and Sarah instructed Daddy to lay him down in the middle of the bed. 

Dean felt awkward and uncomfortable lying out on the bed waiting as Sarah and his daddies moved about him.

It wasn’t like when he laid on Daddy and Papa’s bed back home when he was hanging out with them just having a lazy day. He felt insignificant in the middle of that bed, like he was a subject to be studied, and he couldn’t help but curl his legs up to his chest as he watched Sarah place things alongside of him.

A weight dipped the mattress on the opposite side of Sarah and he turned to see Daddy sitting on the bed and reaching out a hand to run through his hair.

“Don’t worry monkey, you’re going to be just fine,” Daddy said scratching his scalp.

Dean sighed and allowed himself to relax; he was going to trust his daddies. He knew that they would never agree to anything that would hurt him.

“Alright Dean, you ready?” Sarah asked approaching the bed with a dark wooden bowl.

He could feel the pout on his face – he wasn’t totally thrilled about this – but nodded.

“Close your eyes,” Sarah said as she reached into the bowl.

Dean watched long enough to see Sarah’s hand come up holding a collection of fine powder and closed them just as the feeling of fine dust settled over his face.

He stayed lucid for a few seconds longer, but not long after the dust hit his face he was out for the count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I <3 comments!


	16. Dean Let's Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a little bit of a struggle getting this chapter out. Hope it doesn't disappoint!

Sam continued to run his fingers through Dean’s baby fine hair after Sarah had put the little guy under. The sight of Dean curled up on the large bed by himself was unsettling, and if he wouldn’t have trusted Sarah with his life he would have scooped the small boy up and ran him from the room with him safe in his protective arms.

“He’ll need to sit for a while and let his mind fully relax before I can begin,” Sarah said sitting down at the kitchen table where Cas was sitting – just barely holding onto his fears like Sam.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” he heard Cas ask the woman.

“Of course, I know you guys are worried, but I promise Dean’ll be fine,” her soft words were worrying and reassuring.

Sam held no qualms in trusting Sarah. True, her methods of acquiring a child for Sam and Cas had been less than – traditional – but could they argue with her result?

Sarah had said she would help them find a child, and now here Sam was caring for the small boy that he couldn’t picture life without. 

In the early stages of having Dean at home Sam had spent plenty of time interrogating the woman on how and why exactly she had done what she had to Dean. Her response had been the solidifying factor on why they trusted her judgment.

 _“A hunter,”_ she had said, _“Dean was a hunter. It meant his life was hard, terrifying, and comfortless”._

Sarah had gone on to recount some stories she had heard through the witching grapevine; stories of hunters so warped in their age and experience that they sought death like a thirsty man would seek water. It was a depressing and lonely existence that stole the innocence from youthful eyes. 

_“Don’t forget Sam, I can read people,”_ she had reminded him, _“Dean’s aura was black when I met him. Black. Do you know who has black auras? People who are a mere inch from death. And this boy was what, nineteen?”_

Sam recalled the discomfort he had felt at her words when he listened to them over the phone. That particular conversation had taken place after a night where Sam had spent over an hour contemplating the tight expression and clenched fingers that Dean had in his sleep. 

Their little boy hadn’t been a particularly lively one back then.

_“He was nineteen. His aura should have been bright, I shouldn’t have been able to look at him without sunglasses. So yeah, when he broke into my apartment I saw an opportunity to help three people; you, Cas, and Dean. Was it necessarily consensual for the three of you? No. But I would make the same call again in a heartbeat.”_

Sam remembered this long ago conversation and turned to Sarah where she sat at the table with Cas, the both of them just watching Sam run his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“How does he look now?” Sam asked, knowing that Sarah understood what he meant.

She locked eyes with him and offered a small smile before replying, “White.”

*****

They sat for nearly half an hour after Sarah’s spell. Apparently Dean had to fall into a state of complete relaxation before Sarah went poking through his head otherwise the tension that Dean offered up as resistance could cause some discomfort and confusion.

Nothing life threatening, she had assured them. It would feel something akin to a migraine when he awoke if there had been too much resistance, and the memories would become fuzzy – as if her touching them was like leaving fingerprints on developing film.

But eventually they reached the point where Sarah felt comfortable dipping her fingers into Dean’s head and so Sam and Cas were relegated to chairs beside the bed while the woman worked.

She sat along the edge of the bed and ran the tips of her fingers across Dean’s forehead in a slow, soft arc – from temple to temple. When she reached the second temple she lifted her hand up and rubbed her fingertips together before repeating her movements. This was the action that she repeated the entire time.

Sam and Cas were on edge as they watched. They didn’t know what they were going to hear and the possibility that good things weren’t on the horizon were haunting them.

She hummed thoughtfully on her third pass, and then chuckled on the fourth.

“What?” he and Cas asked simultaneously.

Sarah opened her eyes which had closed as she worked and shot them a look, “I’d be happy he couldn’t talk if I were you. He’s a snarky little potty mouth,” she announced shaking her head. Sam, he likens you to a teenage girl or an over-exuberant dog, and Cas,” she snorts, “I’m going to have to agree with Dean on this one now that I see it, but he says that you have sex hair.”

His husband scoffs, though his cheeks tint pink and when Sarah goes back to Dean Cas attempts to smooth his messy ‘sex-hair’. Sam grabs his hand with a small smile, and when the two men share a look it’s clear that Sarah had been attempting to comfort them with her first observations.

They settle in and wait. 

Sarah had explained that digging through Dean’s head would be like peeling layers. Each layer holding a different thought or memory, and none of the layers having any rhyme or reason. And she said the fact that Dean had an additional nineteen years of life to sift through would cause additional layers to be added to the mix.

Another five minutes passed by where Sam ran his thumb along the back of Cas’ hand before Sarah broke her repetition. 

It wasn’t a smile or a chuckle like last time, but a wounded sounding yelp followed by her free hand cupping her mouth. The hand that had been feeling Dean’s forehead cupped one of his cherub cheeks, and when Sarah opened her eyes Sam and Cas spotted tears in the woman’s eyes.

She wiped her eyes and held up a finger, “sorry, I came across Dean’s memory of his birthday party. Uhm,” she cleared her throat, “he was recalling how you had sat up in his nursery with him Sam.”

And Sam straightened at her words, terrified that this memory was enough to make Sarah cry.

“You told Dean that you and Cas loved him,” – Sam remembered that – “it was the first time anyone has ever said that to him.”

Sam felt his eyes prick with tears, “that was…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Had no one loved their little boy before them?

Cas threw an arm over Sam’s shoulder and pulled him a little closer.

Sam looked at the other man; Cas was also crying. That made all three of them in tears, and Sarah had barely gotten started.

They were in for a long night.

*****

Nearly two hours later and Sam found them in the same situation as when they had started. Sarah was still running her fingers over Dean’s head, Cas was still seated in his chair, and Sam was nervous.

His nerves had taken root and he had started pacing the floor, head swiveled to watch Sarah’s movements.

He was chewing on his thumbnail in agitation, his other arm crossed over his chest as he paced. 

Throughout the two hours Dean gad given a few half-hearted kicks and mumbles, and whenever the little babe moved or sounded Sam fought back the urge to scoop him up. Sarah had been adamant in her instructions that she be the only one to touch Dean once she started, lest he or Cas accidentally disturb Dean’s mind with their touches.

In the last two hours they had learned some interesting details about Dean.

He was indeed the sarcastic little boy that they thought him to be. Sarah had informed them of his “no chick flick moments” policy, and proceeded to get a laugh out of the number of times they had broken that rule with him.

They learned his sweet spot for pie – apple and cherry being his favorite – and how cheeseburgers with extra onions was his favorite food _ever_. And from the giggles Sarah got from some of Dean’s burger memories they realized that he had a slight addiction to the stuff. 

Speaking of addictions, they were saddened to learn that prior to being turned into a child that Dean had a tendency to drink. Something he picked up on from his absent father while growing up. 

And that had been the first time any of them had even _heard_ of a father. Not that Dean would have been able to tell them, it’s just – just that they kind of assumed that Dean was on his own throughout life. They couldn’t fathom the idea of Dean being so depressed and lonely at nineteen if he had a father looking out for him. Surely his dad had been someone to care about his well-being and to make sure that when life knocked him down there was a hand offering to haul him back up. Right?

Sam swallowed the feelings of apprehension he felt at that revelation. 

What kind of cold man had their boy grown up with?

They received confirmation of Dean’s favorite music. Classics all the way. Daddy listened to emo crap, and Papa listened to country crap. Apparently the only person who could get away with their music was Mary – who Dean actually thought of as his grandma! – and along with that thought came the cherished memory of Mary dancing in her kitchen when she was cooking in her kitchen.

Sam had laughed. That was his mama.

Along the lines of his grandparents, Dean held some apprehension about Henry. He thought of the man as grandpa, sure, but he seemed wary of the man. 

Sarah speculated that the gruff man was intimidating to Dean, though she did mention that Dean had particularly enjoyed sharing some whiskey with the man. A fact neither he nor Cas was happy to learn of.

One particular question at the half-way mark had thrown the two of them off.

“Where’s Raphael at now?” Sarah had asked as if he or Cas had any clue who the hell Raphael was.

“Raphael?” Cas asked clueless.

“The turtle.”

“The turtle is Raphael?” he had asked.

Cas hit his arm with the back of his hand, “ruh,” he said – Dean’s name for the turtle.

“He calls him Raphael doesn’t he?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, didn’t you know?” Sarah asked.

“No,” they answered in unison.

“Oh,” she went back to running her fingers over Dean’s head. “He’s a big fan of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, that’s where the name comes from,” she explained.

Good information to know.

She had also interrupted the silence again to ask “does Dean get bored often?”

“Yeah,” Cas answered timidly, “he can’t get lost in simple tasks, we need to find something more stimulating for him to do.”

Sarah hummed thoughtfully. “He likes music, try something with that.”

That conversation had been over twenty minutes ago. He and Cas were waiting quote-unquote _patiently_ for the next tid-bit of information when Sarah’s hand paused over Dean’s forehead.

In all this time she had never stopped the motion of her fingers across Dean’s head, she had always finished the arc before reacting. Sam noticed her pause at about the same time that Cas did and the two of them shared a look before focusing back on Sarah.

Her eyes were closed and the hand touching Dean’s forehead was trembling. This wasn’t good.

Sam took a seat next to Cas and bit his lip in anticipation. 

Sarah took a deep breath and finished the arc before pulling her hand away as if it pained her to touch Dean.

“Oh my,” the woman whispered.

“What is it?” Cas asked for the both of them.

Sarah pulled both hands into her lap and stared down at them. Her jaw was working as she sifted through the information she had taken in.

“I found one of his nightmares,” she said lowly.

A heavy feeling settled over the room. They had been worried about Dean’s nightmares for quite some time, and now that they were on the verge of learning what plagued Dean’s mind at night Sam wasn’t so sure he wanted to know.

He looked at Dean’s limp form on the hotel bed; they were too far to turn back now though.

“And?” Sam prompted.

“It’s very vivid,” she began. “It’s like looking at everything in high-definition. Usually nightmares and dreams seem cloudy, fuzzy around the edges because the mind can’t remember them properly.”

She paused and looked to the little body on the bed, “it’s likely that his nightmares have melded with a memory, and that’s why they seem so much clearer than usual.”

“Sarah,” Sam asked leaning forward, and the woman locked eyes with him, “what is it?”

She licked her lips to stall for a few seconds and answered simply, “he has nightmares about his father breaking into his home and killing his daddies.”

Sam had no response.

He didn’t know _how_ to respond to that. They had assumed that Dean’s nightmares were gruesome, perhaps some lingering psychological trauma from his past life that they needed to work through. But nightmares of his father coming to kill his daddies?

“How does Dean think of his father?” because Sam had to ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Does he think of him as ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’?”

“No, he thinks of him as John.”

That was important information to Sam, to know that he and Cas had effectively replaced the man that had been Dean’s father for nineteen years, and that they had only needed two months to do so.

“So a memory,” Cas asked. “Like a memory of us and a memory of his father?”

“No, the nightmare seems to stem from a memory Dean has of his father killing people in a similar manner.”

“What? He – he’s _seen_ his father kill people?” Sam snapped. He wasn’t angry at Sarah, but he was raring to get his hands on this John fellow.

“Seen? Sam, he’s _helped_ his father kill people.”

And that response made him want to throw up.

Sam breathed in and out rapidly for a few moments to calm himself. He felt like someone had punched him in his gut. His boy, his _baby_ boy, had… 

Sam couldn’t think it.

A sour taste filled Sam’s mouth. 

“Tell me he had to,” Sam uttered. “Tell me he had no choice.”

He flicked a serious stare at the woman.

“I promise you Sam, he’s not some cold killer. He was a _hunter_ remember? Killing was kind of his job. But, early on…” she shook her head, “some of the things his Da-, the things _John_ took him after didn’t look like monsters. They looked like people. And as a kid that was enough to traumatize him.”

“A kid?” Cas croaked. Sam hadn’t even realized that his husband had been crying alongside of him. Sam turned and pulled the other man into his arms.

“He was a kid when this happened?”

“I told you guys, a hunter’s existence is a cold one.”

Sam ran his fingers through Cas’ hair when the other man curled up in his arms, and he looked over the other man’s head to see that Sarah hadn’t placed her fingers back on Dean’s head.

“Sarah, this memory -- .”

“I can’t,” she interrupted him, “Sam I would do most things for you, but I refuse to dig deeper and see some of the things that this boy has done.”

Sam nodded.

Dean could think that Sarah was a cold-hearted witch all he wanted, but Sam knew the woman to be too warm and friendly to think of her that way. She dabbled in magic because she cared. Because she wanted to help people. 

He’d seen her use spells to cure little old ladies of crippling arthritis pain, or to boost fundraising events for education programs. Thanks to her work the local Boys and Girls Club of the greater St. Louis area had received enough money to build new parks and playgrounds in underdeveloped areas.

Sarah was a tender person, and if she said that she couldn’t look further into Dean’s past, then he wasn’t going to push her.

“That’s okay,” he said, eyes locked on Dean’s little form. “Are we done?” he asked, needing to know if he was okay to touch his little boy.

“Yeah, let me get the reversal spell on him…” she said getting up from her perch at the bed and gathering supplies to tend to Dean.

Sam held his husband and watched Sarah as she held a hex-bag in her hand, muttering a few things before she gave it a squeeze. The effect was that a soft looking wind swept over Dean’s face removing the dust that had laid there. 

Cas was the first one to him.

“Dean? Sweetheart?” Cas cooed scooping the little boy up and cuddling him against his chest.

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and the lingering effects of the spell left him a little groggy; Sarah had told them to expect that. 

“How are you feeling sweetie?” Cas asked before pressing a kiss to his forehead. Sam stepped forward and watched Dean go cross-eyed as the little boy watched his Papa with glossy eyes.

Dean responded with unintelligible baby babble. 

Sarah quietly packed her things as the three of them regrouped.

Sam watched her step forward and run her fingers through Dean’s baby fine hairs. 

“Goodbye Dean, I’ll see you later,” she said softly, kissing one of Dean’s cheeks.

Sam smiled at the confused look of recognition on the boy’s face as he looked at her. 

She turned to leave their hotel room and got two steps away before turning back around, “and Dean?” she said with a grin, “you’re welcome.”

*****

Sam was busy seeing Sarah out of the room, but Cas was too preoccupied with the small bundle in his arms to pay her much attention. He would call her at some point and apologize, but at the moment he had the sweetest little boy in the world to tend to. 

He was sure that if he had the energy that Dean would be twisting and squirming, totally prepared to go nine rounds against Sarah in retaliation for what she had done to him. But Cas was also pretty sure that the part of Dean that appreciated all of this – that small part that was _thankful_ for the opportunity he had been given – was holding him back. After all, if he had truly been that mad at the woman the reaction he had towards her would have been amplified, not the soft acceptance he held towards her. 

Cas scooped up the diaper bag where it had been left by the crib and he prepared to change Dean – the boy had peed while he was out – and change him into a pair of pajamas. It had been a long day, a long _emotional_ day, and he could see that Dean was going to be awake long enough for some food before he would be ready to go to bed, for real this time.

“Papa’s gonna lay out his little man, his brave little man,” Cas spoke lovingly. Dean was still coming into alertness, and he wanted to be gentle on the little boy’s ears. “Gonna get you all dry and cozy,” he said as he started tugging at the snaps on his onesie.

Dean’s eyes fluttered and he moved his arms about, seemingly confused as to where the hands were coming from.

“U-uhh.”

“Shh, sh. It’s just me sweetheart, just me,” Cas knelt by the bed so that he could be softer with his touches.

“You okay baby Dean?” Sam asked coming to the bed as well.

“He still seems a little out of it,” Cas replied. Dean’s onesie was open and he moved it up slowly so he could get to the tabs of Dean’s diaper. “But Dean’s okay, isn’t he?”

Dean smacked his lips together and nodded lazily.

Cas chuckled softly and pulled the wet diaper off – and grimaced. The combination of a wet diaper in the car and a wet diaper during the spell was not doing well on his baby boy’s bottom. The angry red on his tiny little tush looked to be painful diaper rash if they weren’t careful.

Cas was extra, super soft with his touches.

But that didn’t keep Dean from whining.

“I know sweetheart, I know. You’re just ready for bed huh?”

Dean’s whines started making their way toward crying territory so Cas put a rush on the boy’s diaper change. But by the time Cas had their little boy clean and dry Dean was snuffly and fussy. 

They had been warned that as an after effect of the spell that Dean would be a little teary. The spell had the effect of stirring up Dean’s memories, which in turn mixed up his emotions. It would take a night of good sleep to get everything to settle. But in the meantime he and Sam just had to keep their little guy comforted and loved.

While he was busy cleaning Dean up Sam had the forethought to pull out dinner from the fridge and get it heated up. Sam had ordered food for them upon his arrival and stuffed the dinners in the fridge so that it would be ready whenever they were. 

The smell of delivered Chinese wafted from the microwave, and Dean’s love for food got him to calm down, marginally.

Throughout their quick dinner Dean refused to be anywhere but in either his or Sam’s arms. He ate – Dean would _always_ eat – but he was still teary-eyed. They were thumbing away silent tears between each bite that they fed him. Dean didn’t need consoling as much as he needed their solid presence at the moment, as Dean was crying over memories and forgotten emotions. It wasn’t the _here_ and _now_ that was causing him any upset.

However, that didn’t mean that Dean was prepared to go down in his crib once dinner was done and Dean’s face was cleaned up. Not that Cas tried.

He had just finished wiping soy sauce from Dean’s cheeks – ever the messy fella – where he was seated upon Sam’s thighs and he tossed the empty containers into the trash.

Dean was yawning widely at this point, but if the hand he had fisted in Sam’s shirt was any indication then he wasn’t going to go down for bed – at all.

Cas was busy wiping off the table when Dean yawned again, this one loud – for Dean – and big enough to rock Dean in his Daddy’s arms.

“That was a good one, huh monkey?” Sam was smiling as he looked down at their boy. Cas was smiling too. “You ready for bed yet?”

“Nuh.”

He and Sam shared a laugh.

“Well Daddy unfortunately has to go to bed Dean. Can I pass you off to Papa?”

Dean nodded grumpily at the suggestion but came willingly into Cas’ arms. He draped Dean over his shoulder and pressed his lips to Dean’s crown, his nose buried in those baby soft locks. 

“Goodnight my little monkey,” Sam whispered, giving a rub to Dean’s back and kissing the top of his head.

Cas stood and bounced side to side as Sam stripped down to his boxers and climbed in bed. Sam looked over at him as he laid down and Cas shot him a wink.

His husband scoffed before turning over on his pillow and murmuring out a “goodnight Cassy.”

Cas turned the last light off and grabbed a hotel room key before stepping out into the hall. Dean wasn’t prepared to go down yet and Cas wasn’t in the mood for sitting, so he figured he would walk around the square shaped hallway of the hotel room floor and sing his little boy to sleep.

“You ready for a nite-nite song Dean?” he asked as he stepped quietly down the hall.

Dean nodded against his neck. He was going to fight sleep tonight.

Usually Cas sang him a silly kid’s song in order to get him to sleep. At the beginning of their adventure with Dean he had attempted to come up with his own original song to sing at night. What he had received for his efforts was the _bitchiest_ look he had ever seen on a baby’s face. A very clearly heard _“What the fuck was that?”_ from their grumpy faced baby boy.

So usually at night if he had trouble getting Dean to sleep he would sing him well-known children’s songs, and while Dean might not have preferred _Ba-Ba Black Sheep_ it usually helped him get off to sleep.

After hearing from Sarah however Cas had a new idea for Dean’s nite-nite songs.

“Alright, bear with Papa here, cause he isn’t so good at this kind of music –,” he cleared his throat before attempting – _“Dean’s my cherry pie! Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise! Smells so good makes his Papa cry! Sweet! Cherry! Pie!”_

He heard the soft sounds of Dean beginning to snicker into his neck, and figured he’d keep going.

_“Swingin' in the living room. Swingin' in the kitchen. Most folks don't 'cause they're too busy bitchin!”_

He was getting giggles from Dean in earnest now. No doubt he thought it was funny that Papa was cursing during his nite-nite song. 

_“Swingin' in there 'cause, he wanted me to feed him, so I mixed up his bottle and he started eating!”_

It was kind of difficult to make the song specialized to Dean, but Cas was having fun with it.

_“Dean’s my cherry pie! Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise! Smells so good makes his Papa cry! Sweet! Cherry! Pie!”_

Dean pushed off of his shoulder and smiled up at him through his tear stained face.

“You like that?” cause he had to know.

Dean nodded.

“You like being Papa’s little cherry pie?” he asked rubbing his nose along Dean’s.

Dean nodded, and Cas found it appropriate. His baby boy was sure sweet enough, and he gave him the same warm feeling that a good homemade cherry pie did.

“Alright my little cherry pie. You want to sing together?”

He was still walking the halls, so he was sure to keep his voice quiet so he didn’t disturb other guests. 

Dean seemed enthusiastic and the little boy babbled and grunted lyrically as Cas sang in his overly deep voice. 

They wouldn’t win any awards anytime soon, but after the second run-through of the song – and Cas had to pull his phone out and look up the lyrics to get it right when Dean started patting his cheek and frowning – Cas noticed he was singing solo. 

Dean had cuddled into his neck and he had felt the rumbles of his baby boy’s singing taper off and eventually end.

Cas sang the song one more time, much slower as he finished his final lap around the hall before entering their room again.

He heard the sound of Sam’s snores and he smiled to himself, he had two sleeping boys.

He wasn’t ready to put Dean down though. Not when the feeling of his solid light weight in his arms made Cas feel so grounded. The hotel didn’t have a rocking chair, but he made due with a pillow from the bed and one of the kitchen chairs. 

Cas reclined and propped the small boy up in his arms, gaining assistance from the pillow on the table top. He had Dean relaxed in the crook of his arm and was able to plug those lips up with a pacifier. 

It was too dark in the room for him to see Sam or Dean’s face, but at the moment it was enough to know that they were both there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? 
> 
> Criticisms?


	17. Sonofabitch John!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are a little more complicated than anyone expected after coming back home from Sarah's

Dean smiled and tried to hold in his snickers from where he had curled up like a bug under the end table by the couch in the living room. Lately his favorite position was flat on his back, feet curled up by his head and hands tucked under his chin. 

It was unexplainable.

But he loved it.

It was such a baby pose, curled up like that. And when he had been nineteen the only babies he had known to curl up like that were the little ones. Like the really little ones. 

Perhaps he should have spared more thought to the fact that he was slipping further and further into the mindset of an actual baby, but his adult brain had a hard time putting up much of a fuss. 

For all intents and purposes Dean _was_ seven months old and some change. His body was one hundred percent little. It was the brain that had a hard time accepting that fact.

Strange thing was though, that the less Dean fought it and the more he let go, the easier he found this baby shit. It was like the past two months had been him trying to fight against nature, like he was trying to work against breathing. 

Breathing is a natural human action. You don’t have to think about it. It just _happens_. But Dean had been putting so much effort into fighting his new state and the instincts that it brought him that it’s absurdity could only been summed up as if he had been fighting his body’s natural reaction to breath.

Now that Dean was letting go – _breathing easy_ – life was so simple. 

He had a lot to thank Sarah for, as not only had she been the one to give him this opportunity, but her blending up his grapefruit had been the event that made Dean feel so settled. So utterly carefree and childish.

It had been over a week since his reunion with Sarah, and it had been the best week of either of Dean’s lives. 

He had finally let go. Plain and simple.

He gave into every baby urge that his body assaulted his mind with.

He had peed on Daddy during his morning diaper change.

He had been scolded by Papa to not stick his toys in his mouth.

He had entertained himself for half the afternoon yesterday with only his feet. _His feet!_

Hell, just that morning Papa had started a game of Peek-a-boo with him and for one gut wrenching second when Papa held up the pillow in front of his face Dean had feared that Papa had actually _gone_.

Dean couldn’t fake that.

It was almost frightening to see how easily he slipped into the mindset of a seven month old when he actually allowed himself to. But it was mostly relaxing. 

So he simply allowed himself to be.

And at the moment his current objective to follow was the impromptu hiding game he was playing with Papa.

His eldest daddy was completing one of his household tasks – Dean lazily thinks that it might be dusting – and Dean had found himself entertained by the action of crawling away from his Papa’s ever watchful eyes and lying in wait until he heard his Papa’s “there’s my baby boy!” before Dean flipped over and crawled quickly to a new hiding spot.

He had been under the end table for a long time it seemed…

Just as Dean was contemplating crawling out from his spot – was Papa even looking for him? – he felt hands scooping him up. 

Papa was looking at him with a huge grin on his face, with a look that made his eyes glow. Dean had never noticed before just how _happy_ his daddies looked whenever they were looking at him. 

“There’s Papa’s little cherry pie,” the man said as Dean was held aloft before the man’s face.

And Dean had to giggle at the nickname; Papa had been calling him that ever since they got home from the hotel. It was such a ridiculous name, who the hell called a baby cherry pie? But Dean supposed it had a lot to do with the new nite-nite song Papa sang him. 

The man was slowly teaching the improvised words of Warrant’s Cherry Pie to Daddy, but Daddy was hopelessly tone deaf….

“Is Dean ready for clothes?” Papa inquired.

Dean’s little tush had a bit of a diaper rash going on during the stay at the hotel, and then for the next few days that followed. In a bid to make sure that Dean’s healthily plump backside cleared up nicely Papa had been allowing him to roam the house buck-naked a few hours a day for the last week. 

Pre-Sarah Dean would have been affronted at the implication that he wander about the house naked, Post-Sarah Dean thought it was kick-ass. Papa was _allowing_ him to be naked and crawl about the living room?

Awesome!

It had posed a curious situation though, as Dean had long grown accustomed to peeing wherever and whenever the urge struck him. It had been a damn long time since Dean had to put any thought into that bodily function. 

So the first time Dean had been seated in his playpen – which had been moved to the wooden floor as opposed to the soft rug it was usually on – and he felt the warm tickle of urine spreading about his thighs he couldn’t help the mortified wail that had left him.

Papa had trusted him to behave himself in his playpen, and he reacted by peeing all over Papa’s clean floor.

The man hadn’t seen anything wrong with it however, and merely cleaned Dean and the floor up while softly explaining that that was exactly what he expected Dean to do. No clothes meant no diapers. No diapers meant accidents. And Papa was prepared to clean up after his little cherry pie. “So no more tears sweetheart,” the man had said.

At the moment, however, Dean was really liking this whole no clothes deal, and wasn’t ready to be dressed quite yet.

“Nuh,” he replied. He was ready to be put down and continue his game with Papa. He grunted and pointed at the ground. 

Papa merely chuckled and shuffled him around in his arms. Dean’s bare little butt ended up on Papa’s forearm as the man carried him towards the stairs. 

“Well, Papa can appreciate how much you enjoy not wearing clothes Dean, but you’ve gotta wear something so we can go pick up some groceries.”

“Nu-nuh Ah!”

Screw that! Dean wanted to stay home and be naked. Papa could get food delivered.

Papa took a turn into Dean’s nursery and Dean started squirming. He always naively thought that if he squirmed enough that he could thwart Papa and Daddy’s efforts to do whatever it was that they were attempting to do. 

It never worked.

“Settle down wiggle butt,” Papa said placing him on the changing table where an open diaper waited.

“Uhh? No!”

“Yes, yes. Papa is such a meanie,” Papa deadpanned as he diapered Dean’s bum. “Papa is such a horrible man to get you into clothes like this.”

Dean was fussing and fighting against Papa’s hands. He was wriggling his hips and smacking Papa’s hands with his own, and kept attempting to turn over on the changing pad.

The fact that Papa was laughing at his efforts made him all crusty.

“You know sweetheart, you keep pouting at me like that, but you’re too cute for me to take seriously.”

Dean grumped and decided that if struggling against Papa wasn’t going to get him anything that he would simply go limp and make Papa do all of the work.

He heard Papa chuckle. “Does Papa have a grumpy boy?”

“No,” Dean responded. 

He wasn’t grumpy. He was just tired of Papa being ridiculous and not letting him do what he wanted to do.

“I think I do,” Papa said sliding a pair of pants onto Dean’s legs. 

Dean worked on pushing his bottom lip out in a clear pout, but Papa wasn’t fazed by Dean’s grumpiness, as Papa pressed kisses to the bottoms of his feet before he strapped on some baby sandals.

Papa had him totally dressed, and Dean was not happy about that. The fact that Dean had tears in his eyes would have been a strange occurrence before he became totally comfortable in his role, but now it was just a fact that solidified how ‘little’ he was thinking.

His Papa scooped him up and cuddled him close, and Dean was resolved to hold out his grouchiness until Papa pressed wet lips against his cheeks and started blowing raspberries. He lasted all of two seconds with a scrunched up face before he started giggling in earnest.

Damn Papa and his magical baby-soothing abilities!

Papa blew a few more raspberries on Dean’s cheek and neck and topped it off with a sweet Eskimo kiss before Dean was perched on Papa’s hip and walked downstairs. 

“Alright my little cherry pie,” Papa said, and whenever he said Dean’s special nickname it always came out quick, like _cherrpie_ instead of the full three syllables. “Let’s get going.”

*****

Life had been a little different after their visit to Sarah. The most noticeable development had been the fact that it finally _felt_ like they had a seven month old at the house. At first he and Sam had speculated that Dean’s sudden change in personality had been a temporary fluke, and that Dean would revert back to his hesitant tendencies when they arrived home. But Dean’s demeanor had changed, and the shift seemed like a fairly permanent development.

It had started that first morning in the hotel room. 

Cas had put Dean down in the crib at some point during the night, and Sam – upon waking up – decided to give Dean a quick diaper change before he got ready to leave for work. Because Dean _wasn’t_ a typical infant they had never had to deal with the situation of what happens to little boys who are exposed to fresh air in the morning. 

Sam had received his first golden shower as a father.

Cas woke up to a loud yelp, followed by Dean’s crying at having upset his Daddy, and the cooed murmurings of Sam as he scooped Dean up and cuddled him close. Assuring the little guy that Sam wasn’t mad, that it was his fault that Dean had “sprung a leak,” and that their little boy had nothing to worry about.

After that it had been Cas’ discovery that Dean was becoming more immersed in simple activities. 

For a few weeks now Dean had been amazed with his feet, but Cas had a feeling that was more of a genuine fascination with how flexible he had become combined with the fact that people took part in weird tendencies when they were bored or idle. He didn’t see it as Dean actually being _entertained_ with his feet. But this last week Dean had taken to playing with his feet in a babyish way.

And after the feet it had been the fact that Dean jolted in surprise at Cas’ disappearing acts during a regular game of peek-a-boo. At first Cas had assumed Dean was just faking, that Dean wasn’t _actually_ surprised at Cas holding a pillow in front of his head and lowering with a “here Papa is!”

But after a quick talk with Sarah, Cas learned – and shared with Sam – that Sarah’s spell should have helped Dean to mentally regress as well, and that he had likely been fighting the little person instincts that he had. Sarah hypothesized that poking around Dean’s head and stirring up his emotions like that made it harder for him to hold onto his reservations about acting like the baby he looked like. 

All that Cas knew was that his life felt complete every time he held that little boy in his arms.

Looking for a child had been a struggle for him and Sam. You’d think a well off married couple with stable incomes and a clean house would be good choices for adoption or surrogates. But it had been a struggle to make the adoption agencies think the same thing. 

They had never been able to find a surrogate that meshed with their personalities and adoption agencies hadn’t been overly fond of the idea of the two of them sporting intense professional careers. 

Cas had gladly quit his job as a graphic designer, gave up his position at a posh designing firm and became a glorified trophy husband, but then there had been the concern that Sam and Cas had become a one income household. 

There was no pleasing the adoption agency.

It seemed like he and Sam would go their whole lives childless, an existence that rivaled living in a glorified version of hell.

Then Dean happened.

Their lives were complete.

Their smiles were more genuine.

Their eyes shone brighter.

Their families were ecstatic.

They felt _whole._

Of course they had also learned some useful information about Dean because of Sarah, like the love of TMNT, the type of music he liked – which they had already kind of guessed – the boredom, and most importantly, his nightmares about John.

Dean’s fears about his father was the result of a very insecure little boy’s imaginative mind, but it was also worrisome to him and Sam.

John seemed like a dangerous man, someone who could potentially be a problem to them. And so in order to ease Dean’s mindset they did a few things. They upgraded the security on the house. Where it used to be just the locks on their doors, they now had a fancy security system that required a pin number to be entered into an electric device that mounted on the wall like a high-tech looking thermostat system.

And Sam – even though it went against some of his beliefs – registered for a handgun. It was a little thing, silver; Cas knew absolutely nothing about it. But it would sit in a gun safe in the master bedroom – which was always locked – and hidden in their closet and bolted to the floor.

He and Sam were going to get proper lessons on it that weekend, as they wouldn’t be allowed to have the gun in their house until they demonstrated proper gun handling. 

These changes seemed to ease Dean’s mind, especially coupled with the fact that both of his daddies finally _knew_ what was scaring him. 

The last week had been nightmare free.

And they hoped it stayed that way.

“Ah?” his little boy chirped, and Cas tore his attention away from his internal musings to pay attention to the golden-haired angel sitting in his shopping cart.

Dean was holding Cas’ notebook that he wrote his grocery list in and was waving it around, the pages flopping with his jerky movements. 

“You going to help Papa pick out groceries?” he asked.

“Yuh,” Dean grunted, looking down to stare at the shopping list he now held in both hands. 

Cas pushed back the hairs on Dean’s head and gave him a kiss to the forehead before pushing the cart down the aisle. 

The grocery list was a formality. He usually just picked up whatever and made sure to get certain specified items if they were important.

They were in the pasta aisle, and Cas was torn between making cheese and spinach stuffed ravioli or some of the macaroni and cheese that Dean loved. It was a blessing that their little boy knew to gum the noodles well enough, or they wouldn’t have been able to feed much of what they did to Dean.

“What do you think sweetheart, should we do mac and cheese again?”

“Yuh!”

Cas snorted and scooped up the appropriate box of elbow noodles.

Dean’s grunt-speak didn’t sound very eloquent, even when he wasn’t busy sucking on a pacifier, but it was a whole hell of a lot more impressive than what most seven month olds were using to communicate. 

Dean was actually improving vocally. He hadn’t always been capable of even just grunting. But Dean’s practice was paying off. The little boy babbled frequently, and it helped that Cas asked him questions so the boy had practice in conversation.

Cas dropped the box of noodles in the cart and kept pushing. 

They got to the next aisle where they met up with an elderly woman who was studying the selection of canned stocks and soups before her. 

Cas parked the cart and stepped forward to grab a few specific cans. He was going to make some chili for chili dogs that weekend and he needed a few specific cans.

He didn’t pay much attention to Dean until he heard the older woman start talking.

“Well hello sugar, what’s your name?”

Cas turned on his heels and saw the woman eying Dean in his seat. The woman had hands on her hips and a bemused expression on her face as she looked at the little boy waving politely at her.

Dean grunted out a response that was supposed to be his name – at least Cas heard him say Dean, he wasn’t sure what the woman thought he was saying – but it came out like “Duh – ah – nee.”

“Good job sweetheart,” Cas said grabbing his cans so he could turn back to the cart. “This is Dean,” he clarified for him.

The older woman hummed thoughtfully as she grabbed what she was looking for. “Such a cutie.”

Cas smiled down at Dean who looked up at him with a shy smile, “he sure is.”

He gave his little boy another kiss and kept pushing, there was no point in sticking around the aisle just to have the woman continue to stare at Dean. A shy little boy like him? Best to keep attention from strangers to a minimum. 

The next aisle found Dean rubbing at his eyes with tiny hands. Cas had purposefully gone out grocery shopping at a time that would overlap Dean’s scheduled afternoon nap. He had taken their lively little boy out shopping once before when Dean was at his most active a few weeks ago, the result had been Dean throwing a hand out as Cas had been pushing the cart past the glass containers of pasta sauce, and Dean had succeeded in knocking over half a dozen sauce jars that busted open on the floor.

Cas had been so embarrassed, his face burned more red than the marinara sauce that colored the floor.

The teenaged store associate that mopped the spill up had been adamant in assuring Cas that Dean hadn’t been the first baby to make a mess in the store.

Didn’t make Cas feel any better.

So from then on whenever he had to make a quick trip somewhere he made sure it budded up against Dean’s naptime. It assured Cas that Dean would be a little more manageable and less likely to cause chaos.

“Does Papa have a sleepy boy?” he asked as he added some random items to the cart.

Dean dropped his hand from his face and gripped the handle on the cart.

“No,” his little boy responded, his voice sounding low and tired.

“Hmm, I think I do.”

Dean pouted up at him and shook his head. “You’re too cute sweetheart,” Cas said continuing on. 

With Dean growing more and more tired Cas was able to wrap up their shopping trip in another twenty minutes, and then they were heading to the check out. As they waited in line Cas pushed the cart back and forth in a steady rhythm which caused Dean’s head to bob as he grew sleepier and sleepier. 

There wasn’t an appropriate place for Dean’s head to go – as kids weren’t meant to nap in the seat of a shopping cart – but eventually his head dipped down until it rested alongside of his hands on the shopping cart handle. 

Cas ruffled Dean’s hair and scratched at his scalp to ensure that his baby boy was totally asleep as he loaded his items on the belt, checked out, and paid. 

He headed out to his car and popped the trunk, he had the sedan – which surprisingly had more trunk space than the SUV – and Dean’s car seat was in the back already, so Cas plucked the sleeping babe from the shopping cart and got him strapped into his seat before he started unloading his cart.

He shoved the milk toward the back of the trunk before standing up and turning to his cart when he came face to face with a gruff looking man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“Afternoon,” the man growled – his voice couldn’t be described any other way.

“Uh – hello?” Cas greeted.

He shifted back and forth on his feet and couldn’t help but think that the man before him was studying him, looking for secrets. 

Cas cleared his throat and did some studying of his own.

The man was older, at least ten years older than himself. His facial hair hadn’t been shaved in a few weeks, and he smelled like cheap aftershave – cheap _strong_ aftershave. Though it was early August the man was wearing a thick leather jacket, and Cas was wary of what the jacket could be hiding.

“Um, can I help you?”

The man’s eyes flicked between Cas and the car – where Dean was sleeping soundly in his car seat – and Cas grew uncomfortable.

“Good looking boy you got there,” the man stated – and Cas swallowed the lump in his throat – “Got a son of my own, been missing for a few months…”

_Oh shit_

“…trying to find where he got off to,” he started pulling something out of his coat and Cas prepared himself to scream out until he saw that it was the man’s wallet, “followed reports saying his car was seen up this way. So I’m searching the area,” he said as he pulled a photo out of his wallet and handed it over. “You seen the boy or this car anytime in the last two months?”

Cas took the picture with a shaky hand before studying it.

It was Dean. Dean leaning against the Impala that he and Sam had towed up to Henry’s from St. Louis. Dean was obviously much older in the picture; probably close to the age he was when the witch turned him. 

Cas could recognize the eyes, those expressive green eyes that made his Dean look so sweet and angelic. 

The confirmation before him meant one thing. This was John. This was Dean’s Dad, his biological father. 

This was the man who haunted his son, who gave him nightmares, who had scarred him and left him psychologically damaged. 

And according to Sarah, this man was dangerous.

“I haven’t,” Cas said thrusting the photo back into the man’s hand. “Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Cas bit his lips nervously and watched the man stow the picture back in his wallet.

“Yeah, guess I’ll have to keep looking.”

Cas searched for something to say to hurry the man along, “I hope you find your son.” 

_I hope you never see him again._ Is what he meant.

The man scoffed as he tucked the wallet back in his jacket, “My son can take care of himself, I’m more concerned about the car, it’s a classic.”

Cas had to clench his fists and not show his anger at the man. The sooner he left the better off Cas and Dean would be.

“You and your _son_ ,” the man said with a slight infliction to the word ‘son’ “have a good day.”

And with that he turned and left.

Once he was far enough away Cas felt himself deflate, and the panic he had held at bay flushed his system so that his heart was pounding and the sound of his blood rushed through his ears. 

He hurriedly stuffed the groceries in the trunk and pushed the cart into the cart return before jumping in the car and driving out of the parking lot. 

It had been two months since old Dean would have turned up missing, so either John truly didn’t care about Dean’s whereabouts or John had been watching Sarah back in St. Louis and followed them back home when they left.

Sarah had hoped to eliminate any problems by meeting them at the hotel. She said that bringing Dean back into the area could have been troublesome if any hunters in the area were lingering around to look for signs of him. 

Turns out that their efforts may have been for nothing. 

Cas called Sam at the office. When Andrea had patched him through he barely let Sam get out a greeting before he looked at Dean’s precious angel face in the rearview mirror and interrupted him.

“Sam, we have a problem. John’s in town.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I wanted was a cute story about baby Dean, there wasn't supposed to be a plot. But goddamnit, I don't even fucking know where this story is going anymore. I might be driving this bus, but I have no clue where it's heading.


	18. Sonofabitch John! (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Son ofa bitch! JOHN!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Five points to anyone who can point out my amended Hamlet line
> 
> 2\. Is it too late to actually give my story a concrete geographical location?
> 
> 3\. John took the chapter over again. Whoops.

Dean woke up from his impromptu nap and was immediately displeased with his current location. He had expected to wake up and find himself in his crib, or better yet, his playpen. That way he could play with his Papa for the rest of the afternoon. 

His plans included getting home and seeing how long it took him to squirm out of his clothes – diaper included – so that he could roam the house in the nude. 

But _apparently_ Papa hadn’t got the fucking memo. 

He was still in his car seat, not his favorite place to take a nap. Though he was happy to find that the straps had been undone, but he and his seat weren’t located in the back of Papa’s car. Instead he was at ground level, staring at some woman’s shapely legs in dress slacks as she sat in an office chair. 

His pacifier was still plugged in, so he started sucking as he adjusted in his seat and looked around. He could only see the lower half of everything – he was too groggy to lift his head – he was in an office, somewhere.

It took him a while to realize that one of those legs was curved towards him, and the owner’s toe was lifting and rocking his car seat on its base. The rocking was doing a good job at keeping him calm, but his Papa wasn’t in sight, and because of that Dean was only a breath away from crying. 

He sucked in a lungful of air from around his pacifier and readied himself for a good wail when the leg’s owner noticed his awakened state.

“Hey there bright eyes!”

Dean craned his neck and directed his pout up at the woman who was speaking to him.

“Why are you looking so sour?” she asked as she reached out to card her fingers through Dean’s hair. “Your Papa said you might be hungry when you woke up, do you want a bottle?”

Papa? This woman had been in contact with Dean’s Papa?

“Ah?” he chirruped from behind his rubber soother as the woman reached for something up high on the desk she was sitting at. 

The woman made no outward recognition that she knew what he was asking for. Perhaps he should try for a more traditional name for his Papa.

“Pu-pu-p-puh,” he started sputtering like a broken muffler. 

Damn, the ‘P’ sound was easy enough, as was ‘ah’, but Christ, trying to pair the two of them together was trickier than picking up a chick at Sunday school.

“You asking for Papa?” she asked over the distinct sound of a bottle of milk being shaken in preparation for him to eat.

“Yuh,” that was one word he could get out pretty well.

“Papa and Daddy are in Daddy’s office,” she began to explain – and wait, Daddy? – as she bent over and handed Dean a full bottle of milk. “Papa showed up with you in tow and asked if I could watch you for a few minutes while they talked in Daddy’s office.”

Okay, that explained a lot. And he was happy to hear that Papa and Daddy were within screaming distance, but now a new problem had presented itself. 

Dean’s tummy was rumbly, but this woman had handed off his bottle as if he were capable of holding it up at the right angle all on his own. He tried getting his stupidly small fingers around the bottle, but had to settle for squeezing it between his palms in order to hold it. His head was already tilted back with how he was lying down in his car seat, but his arm muscles weren’t able to hold his bottle at the right angle and he wasn’t able to suckle down any of the milk that he wanted.

Frustrated, Dean tossed the bottle to the floor, listening to the satisfying thud it made and watched as the impact caused milk to explode out of the nipple. 

He shrieked in pleasant surprise.

Maybe the woman would give him back the bottle so he could throw it again.

The woman tsked as she scooped up the bottle and swiped over the milk stain with one of Dean’s burp cloths. 

But she never gave the bottle back.

That bitch!

Dean started snuffling and whining in his seat, but she wasn’t paying him any attention. So he started wriggling in the confines of his car seat. All that really succeeded in doing is shifting him lower in the seat, he didn’t really get anywhere. 

He started fussing and whining more. “Uh?” he asked, hoping that if this woman wasn’t going to help him eat then the least she could to was release him so he could move around.

“What’s wrong honey?” she asked though her eyes never left the computer screen.

He threw his arms out and wiggled some more to emphasize his current dilemma. 

“Does Dean want out?”

Yes!

“Yuh!”

“Alright pumpkin, hold on.”

A few moments later the woman was bending over and maneuvering Dean from the accursed car seat. 

He was free!

He crawled around until he was in front of the woman’s desk. She was still typing away on the computer and Dean plopped down on his butt and tore quietly at his clothes to avoid the woman’s detection. 

A few minutes passed in which Dean was able to remove his sandals, thank God those suckers were easily removed because baby dexterity was fucking horrible. He had planned on being home and naked by now, and though the home part hadn’t come true that didn’t stop him from achieving the ‘naked’ half of his evening plans. 

Dean wiggled around until he ended up on his back, feet and legs in the air as he yanked at the ankle to his pants. He had to get the waist band over the persistent bulge of his diaper and then he was in the clear. 

He fisted his fingers in the material and gave a great big tug. His efforts were rewarded with the baby jeans sliding off, but he hadn’t been prepared for the possibility of his pants coming off entirely and he ended up smacking himself in the face. 

One fist hit his chin, and the other landed a good hit to his brow. 

Dean suffered through one split second of calm as he assessed his current physical state before he gave into the overwhelming urge to cry. Some primal instinct was telling him that he didn’t know if he had succeeded in hurting himself or not, and rather than try to figure it out on his own he _needed_ one of his daddies to come and let him know if he was okay or not.

He started wailing at the same time that he flipped over onto his belly and started crawling back around to the other side of the woman’s desk.

His eyes were glazed over with tears, so it was a little difficult to see, but he could tell when a pair of legs appeared in front of him.

He knew on instinct that the legs belonged to his Daddy. It seemed that parenthood had done wonders on his daddies, as they were able to identify and react to his cries and appear quicker than the woman who had been in the same room with him.

“Oh Dean,” Daddy cooed wrapping his wonderful big, warm hands around his sides to pluck him off the ground. Daddy’s arm clamped around his little legs and supported his butt, as his other hand rubbed circles into the onesie that he still wore. 

Dean ducked his head and curled himself up under Daddy’s chin. 

“What’s with the tears monkey?” Daddy asked before he pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head.

Dean was rubbing at the spots he had hit on his face and Daddy grabbed his hand and pulled it away before looking at his face.

“Did you hit something?” Daddy asked, pressing tender fingers into the spots he had hit on his face.

If Daddy was able to find the places Dean had hit then his fists had probably done enough damage to cause some red marks.

Dean heard his Papa scoff from behind him and he turned away from Daddy’s neck to see the older man bend down to pick up Dean’s discarded jeans and shoes.

“I think we have an escape artist on our hands,” Papa said holding up Dean’s clothing to show to Daddy.

“Did you hurt yourself trying to take off your pants?” Daddy asked with a chuckle.

Hey, you try taking your pants off with baby hands Daddy!

“Yuh,” Dean answered him anyways, cause his face kind of hurt and he wanted Daddy to make him feel better. 

Daddy gave Dean some special ‘feel better’ kisses all over his face, and the little boy went from sniffly to giggly pretty quick.

“That’s better,” Daddy said to him, smiling down at Dean’s happy grin.

Papa held out his hands and Daddy passed Dean over like they were starting a game of baby football. Papa in turn plunked Dean down at the edge of the lady’s desk and started worming his pants back on.

“No!” Dean shouted, issuing a pretty impressive smack to Papa’s hands.

“I know, I know. Papa has a monster on his hands, and he doesn’t want to put on pants.”

“Yuh.”

“But isn’t Papa’s little cherry pie a gentleman?”

Huh? Was Papa dabbling in more baby trickery that Dean wasn’t privy to?

“Yuh,” Dean answered hesitantly.

“Well, we’re in the presence of a lady,” Papa explained calmly as he stood Dean up on the desk to hike his pants up over his diaper, “and a gentleman always has to be dressed properly when in the presence of a lady.”

Fine. Dean could get behind it. They were in the front lobby of Daddy’s office, and secretary lady aside it wasn’t proper for Dean to be half-naked in public. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to be forced into shoes.

“Nuh!” Dean whined pointing down at the shoes that Papa had collected and left lying on the desk. 

“No shoes?” Papa interpreted, “that’s okay sweetheart, Papa can get behind no shoes.”

Papa scooped him up and perched him on his hip as Daddy stepped over to whisper something in Papa’s ear. 

Dean pouted at the secretive display. Never before have his daddies felt it necessary to whisper around him like that. 

Something was rotten in Deanmark.

Daddy pulled away from Papa with a smile. 

“Guess what monkey! You and Papa are going to surprise Grandma and Grandpa with a visit!”

What? That didn’t sound right.

“You and Papa are going to stop by for a few hours and then Daddy is going to stop by and pick you guys up,” Daddy was saying as Papa stepped around the desk to grab Dean’s car seat.

Well that certainly sounded suspicious. Dean and Papa were hiding out at Grandma and Grandpa’s for the afternoon and they were ditching Papa’s car? What the hell? 

Daddy must have seen the concern on his face because he swooped in and cupped Dean’s cheeks, and pressed a kiss to his freckled nose.

“Hey, don’t look so worried monkey, Papa just wasn’t feeling well at the store and he wants Grandma to help watch you for the afternoon until I can come get him and take my two boys home. Okay?”

Oh, okay. That sounded a little better.

Dean looked to his Papa, and now that he knew what he was looking for he could see the kind of pale complexion to his skin. Was Papa coming down with something?

He reached up and patted at Papa’s stubbly jaw. “Ah?” he chirruped, hoping the man knew that Dean was asking after his well-being.

Papa smiled, “I’ll be okay sweetheart, just a little dizzy is all.”

Dean nodded, and – hey! – Grandma seemed to be on board with the whole naked Dean regime, perhaps when they got to her house she could help him strip down to his skivvies, and he could roam the house on that soft ass carpet they had.

This day had the potential to be great.

Daddy tilted his head down to press a kiss to Dean’s forehead and then to capture Papa’s lips in a chaste kiss.

Dean wrinkled his nose at the mushy display. These guys were usually all for loving kisses at home, but he hadn’t seen them being a ‘couply’ outside the house.

Daddy pulled back and his two daddies shared a moment of silent communication. They did it on occasion, but this time it seemed more serious. Daddy’s look didn’t say, _“I love you”_ it seemed to say _“it’s going to be okay”_. The only thing that left Dean confused was Papa’s consistent look of _“I know”_.

He wasn’t sure what was going on. 

Before he could linger on the moment any longer Papa was dropping Dean into his car seat and stowing Dean’s sandals on Dean’s lap. He decided to behave for his Papa, if the man was truly not feeling well he didn’t want to make the man feel worse by having to bend over to pick up any discarded shoes, and if there was something sneaky going on then Dean didn’t want to disrupt Papa’s thoughts.

As Papa got Dean strapped in and carried him wordlessly out to the car, and transferred him into the back seat, Dean couldn’t help but think that between illness, and suspicious activity, that whatever was causing his daddies problems had to stem from the latter. 

*****

They arrived at Sam’s parents’ house in almost record time. 

Cas had been trying so hard to drive normally, but the idea that some psychopath, some _murderous_ psychopath, was looking for Dean and had Cas’ number had him freaking the fuck out. 

While he and Sam had been hesitant to send the two of them to Mary and Henry’s – on the off chance that John knew the car was located there and put two and two together – they both found comfort in one solitary fact; Henry owned guns.

Not only did he own them, but he shot them quicker than a redneck would shoot a coon. 

So yeah, they were at Henry and Mary’s. 

Cas parked the car in the back of the house, where the driveway curved and veered off towards Henry’s garage. It wasn’t typical for Cas to park back there, he and Sam usually stopped the cars in the front of the house, but Cas didn’t want his vehicle to be easily spotted from the street. 

_Just in case_.

He hopped out of the car and strode to the back, opening the door to let Dean out when he encountered wide, scared looking green eyes that gave him pause.

Dean was usually pretty chatty when they were in the car together. And lately he had enjoyed his grunt-singing whenever Cas played a station that the little babe liked. 

It hadn’t escaped Cas’ focus that Dean had been unusually quiet during the trip from Sam’s office to his in-laws, but he hadn’t really realized just how frightened the small boy looked.

Cas had to pause and take a relaxing breath. Keeping Dean safe fell into the same category as keeping Dean comfortable, he had to remind himself of that.

“I’m sorry that Papa’s been acting kind of weird sweetheart,” he said undoing Dean’s straps. “We’re going to go inside and stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a few hours so that I can lie down, okay?” 

He was going to stick to the cover story of himself not feeling well for as long as he could, regardless of the fact that Dean had probably seen past his rouse long before they left Sam’s office. 

Dean looked unconvinced, and Cas couldn’t blame him. Dean was a smart and knowledgeable hunter; there was no way that Cas was doing a good job of convincing him that everything was okay.

He pulled Dean out of the seat and perched him on his hip. Dean immediately fisted his hands in his shirt, and Cas got the message. Dean wasn’t letting go until this whole mess blew over. 

Cas felt the beginning of a migraine start behind his eyes and he pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s delicate head, perhaps lying down in Mary’s floral guestroom wasn’t such a bad idea. 

He grabbed Dean’s diaper bag from the back seat and slung it over his free shoulder before trotting across the sidewalk to the back door. 

Mary and Henry lived in a typical farm house, which meant that every entry way had a porch to it. The back one was identical to the front, down to the country posts and the steepled roof that covered it. 

Just like the front porch the back end of the house had a creaky porch swing, and overlooked grass and cornfields. It was a typical sight in northern Illinois. 

He marched up the stairs and walked through the screen door onto the back sun room of the house, kicking off his shoes as he held onto one of Henry’s old file cabinets for balance, and dropped Dean’s diaper bag down on the floor.

“Henry? Mary? It’s me,” he called out to the house. Sam’s parents rarely, if never, left the house, so it was a given that they were home. And though he hadn’t called ahead he was sure that Henry had seen him pull his car up the driveway. 

“I brought Dean with,” he called again. Distracted as his right foot wiggled out of its shoe.

He started to step out of the left one when his head shot up. 

There hadn’t been a call back.

Cas felt his heart pound and a cold sweat broke out over the back of his neck. Dean, the ever perceptive hunter that he was, also picked up on the fact that something was wrong, and while he didn’t know just _how wrong_ he did respond by whimpering and pressing his face into Cas’ neck.

He put a hand over Dean’s back and rubbed in circles, whispering soft words of comfort as he crept forward.

The sunroom was approximately twelve feet long, but only about five wide. It would take Cas less than two strides to cross the space on any given day, but this time he shuffled forward on legs that didn’t want to move.

The sunroom opened up to the kitchen, which was usually always bustling with activity, but now held a kind of somber silence. 

He stood, barely in the doorway, and peered out into the kitchen. What he saw had him pressing Dean’s face into his neck so that his son didn’t look about the room and accidentally see.

Cabinet doors were thrown open, drawers pulled out. The contents of the kitchen were strewn about the floor and one of the cabinet doors was hanging on by only one hinge.

The table that always sat so peacefully in the kitchen was flipped, the chairs discarded about the room and the table cloth itself had been torn to shreds.

He could tell without looking that the remainder of the house would be a mess as well.

“Oh fuck.”

His eyes darted to the door connecting the kitchen to the living room when he heard footsteps and he immediately took a half step back to blindly grab at the contents in the top drawer of the filing cabinet that he had been hanging onto. 

He promised to thank Henry with the biggest bottle of whiskey he could find when his hand closed around the small six-shooter his father in law always kept stashed there.

Just as a dark figure was making his way into the kitchen Cas swung his arm up and held the gun with all the menace he could muster.

Well, all the menace a man wearing only one shoe, while currently executing a death grip on a baby, could fake.

John stepped into the kitchen and fixed a serious glare in Cas’ direction.

“So I was right,” was the lazy drawl that the man started with, “that boy _is_ Dean.”

At his words a small, unhappy, freckled face and glassy green eyes looked out at the room.

“So you let yourself be cursed, that what happened boy?”

 _“You,”_ Cas shouted, “shall not. Speak. To. Him.”

Cas was damned if the monster before him would do any more damage to his little boy.

“I think I’ll talk to my son –.”

“Not your son,” Cas quickly interrupted. “Dean is _my_ child. Mine and Sam’s.”

John looked about the kitchen as if he was admiring his handiwork, and he clinched his jaw as he processed Cas’ words.

“So, this couple ain’t supernatural,” he said waving a hand around, a hand – Cas startlingly realized – held a gun as well. “Does that mean you’re the monster who stole my boy?”

“Monster?” Cas gasped, “you force your son to torture, and kill. Force him into a lifestyle that plagues his dreams. You break into my in-law’s home and hurt them, and yet you call _me ___the monster?”

Cas’ hand shook and Dean made soft crying sounds. 

John looked up at Dean’s noise, “relax son, ain’t no one home.” 

And Cas couldn’t tell if he was talking to Dean or himself at that moment. 

“I don’t care,” okay, he cared, he was happy Mary and Henry were okay, “but you are going to leave, and you are never going to bother Dean again.” 

John took a few steps around the kitchen, and he closed one of the open drawers as he went. “Sorry, can’t do.” 

Cas made the mistake of lowering his gun slightly when John turned around and pointed his own gun at him. 

“I’m going to go ahead and assume that you’ve never shot a gun before in your life,” John said knowingly, “and all I need is one clean shot and me and Dean will be gone.” 

Dean started sobbing and clinging harder to Cas’ neck, and he did his best to block Dean’s cries out, getting emotional at that moment wouldn’t serve him well. 

“All _I_ need, is one clean shot, and you’ll be bleeding out where you stand,” he replied. And shit, he sounded _so_ much more confident than he actually was. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said as he started walking backward into the sunroom, “I’m going to get in my car _with Dean_ and we’re going to leave.” It was a little tricky to walk with one shoe only half on, but he managed to get far enough away that he was backing into the screen door and walking out onto the porch with John stalking after him. 

“When we’re gone I’m going to call the cops, and tell them that there was a break in at this address. When they get here you’ll either be gone, or waiting for a set of hand-cuffs. Your choice.” 

They were both on the back porch now, and Cas was having a hard time processing how to come across intimidating while trying to remember how many steps he could safely take backwards before he would hit steps. 

John sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, but that’s not going to happen.” 

Cas felt his body seize up mid-step. He had miscalculated. His left foot had been expecting to land on the porch, but instead hit open air. It landed hard and awkwardly on the top step, with an audible and painful _pop_. 

He was falling backward over the steps as John lifted his gun a short ways and fired. 

In response Dean started screaming, and the sheer horror flooding Cas’ system caused him to press his eyes shut and squeeze his own trigger. 

Before he could open his eyes again there were two gun shots, the sound of Dean’s screams, and the impact of Cas falling to the ground at the bottom of the stairs and cracking his head against the concrete sidewalk. 

Cas opened his eyes and blackness swirled his vision. He could feel himself falling into that blackness. When the color finally returned to his eyes, and before he lost consciousness, he could see his baby boy crying out in horror in his arms. Droplets of gruesome red clinging to his golden freckled face. 

He had been hit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally gave Cas an injury that I pulled from RL. I've been walking around with a super fancy air-boot for the last like five weeks. I sprained my ankle because apparently after 22 years I still haven't learned how to walk right... so yeah.
> 
> Comments?


	19. Cas in Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mkay, I told you not to worry. See? No worries :)
> 
> I can credit the rush job on this chapter to the fact that two of my classes were canceled yesterday. And then my third class was delayed for an hour and a half. 
> 
> Nine hours of boredom on a college campus folks!

Sam was fidgety.

It had been a few hours since Cas left his office with Dean and headed out to Sam’s parent’s house. 

Though the cover that they were giving Dean was that Cas needed someone to watch over him while his Papa took a much needed nap, Sam kind of believed that a nap was something that would serve his husband well.

When Cas had called and told Sam that he was heading out to his office he could tell that his husband was freaked. It wasn’t until the other man had finally showed up with Dean in tow that he realized just how badly John’s encounter had effected him. 

Cas had looked white. His skin was pale and his eyes were blown wide. He had handed Dean’s carrier off to Andrea without a second thought and proceeded to have a small panic attack in his office. Sam had been forced to hold Cas still, arms wrapped around him from behind, one hand low on his belly and the other over his collar bones as he walked the older man through his breathing.

Cas’ clipped mutterings had been something to the effect of John taking Dean and Cas not being able to do a damn thing about it.

So yeah, Cas needed time to lie down and relax. 

He had held off calling for long enough to ensure that Cas had an appropriate amount of time to catch his breath, but now that two hours had passed he was a little desperate to hear from his husband.

He called Cas’ number first.

When it went to voicemail he didn’t think anything of it. Cas often left the damn thing on silent or forgot it in the center console of his car. No worries, he would try his parents’ home phone.

He hung up and dialed his parents’ number.

What he got that time around wasn’t a ring tone, or even a busy signal. It was a dead line.

Sam felt himself grow heavy with the implications of what that could mean.

And he didn’t like any of them.

He stared at his desk phone in his hands for a few moments, just long enough for him to slam it on his desk, a full foot away from the cradle, and for him to snatch his keys and cell phone from his desk drawer.

He bolted from his office without a second glance, and without offering any explanation to the questions that Andrea was shouting after him.

He needed to get to his husband and baby _now_.

Sam was to his SUV and backing it out of the parking spot before he remembered to make the call to 911.

The phone operator tried the usual ‘talk the caller down from their freakout’ speech on him, and he may have been a little rude with his clipped response of “my family is in danger, so you can fuck off lady!”

Sam came to his senses immediately and profusely apologized to the woman over the phone.

She took his name and listened to his concerns and promised him that a patrol car would be sent by his parents’ house.

He hoped that it would be enough.

*****

Sam found himself driving over curbs, running red lights and passing other vehicles in unsafe locations on the road as he drove recklessly to his parents’ house. 

The house was a good thirty minute drive from Sam’s office building, often times forty with traffic, but with speeding and a general dismissal of any and all driving laws, Sam found himself rolling into the driveway in just under twenty minutes.

What he saw punched the air out of his lungs.

Four squad cars littered the driveway. Some were pulled off into grassy areas, a fact that would piss Henry off later when this whole thing blew over. 

He could also spy the corner of an ambulance peeking out from behind the house.

 _Something_ had happened here. 

Sam pulled forward and parked next to the house on the grass so that any vehicles needing to get away could take the driveway – he would apologize to his dad with a bottle of whiskey later.

He exited his SUV, mindless as to whether or not the car was running or if the door was left open, he didn’t care. 

He jogged toward a mass of people who were surrounding a stretcher on the sidewalk just before the stairs to the front porch. 

From the mass of bodies he could see two lonely legs poking out. One foot was covered in a purple sock, and the other one was barely holding onto one of Cas’ favorite tennis shoes.

Sam’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground mid-step. 

The world around him froze, and his vision swam around those two feet. 

His husband.

Something had happened, _to his husband._

Sam took a few quick breaths and stood back up, hell bent on shoving bodies out of the way until he spied the man he loved and made sure with his own eyes that Cas would be breathing for many years to come.

He was only a few feet away when a beefy arm snagged his middle.

“Hold on there, can’t let ya – .”

“That’s my husband!” Sam roared in the face of the officer currently blocking him.

“That may be son, but I’m going to need you to stay back so the paramedics can do their job,” the man calmly stated.

“No! No, I – I need to – .”

“You need to calm down. Barreling on past the folks working on him won’t do any good.”

It took two large hands grabbing onto Sam’s biceps for him to realize that he was fighting and struggling against the officer, and when he calmed down long enough he could feel where on his own arms and legs that he had got a few good hits in.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out at the man who he had been using as a punching bag. “I’m sorry.”

He collapsed and the officer yelped out a “whoa there,” as he kept Sam from plummeting hard to the ground.

Sam felt his stomach roiling away, and his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he could see it through his dress shirt.

The officer crouched down before Sam and held out a bottle of water that he had acquired from somewhere. The man held the bottle as Sam took a few sips.

“Better?”

“What happened?”

The officer had a sad look on his face when he responded with “he’s been shot.”

“Is he – .”

“He’s gonna be fine, son.”

Sam felt himself deflate.

“Were you the caller who tipped us off?”

“Yeah.”

“So this man is your husband, do you know who the other one is?”

“Other?” he croaked.

The officer turned and pointed onto the porch, Sam followed with his eyes and spied a second group of paramedics crouched up there. Their presence had escaped his notice.

“I have a feeling that I do,” he admitted lowly.

The officer pushed the water bottle into Sam’s hands. “They’re going to be loading your husband up in a few minutes once they get him completely stabilized. You can ride in the ambulance with him.”

He nodded, and then his head shot up.

“Where’s my son at?”

“Your son?”

 _Fuck_ His heart was skyrocketing again.

“My son. My _infant_ son! He was with his other father when they arrived here.”

The grim look on the officer’s face told Sam everything he needed to know. They didn’t have Dean.

They didn’t have _Dean_. 

*****

Dean’s head was spinning. 

They had shown up at Grandma and Grandpa’s and his face had betrayed his stuttering emotions. His Papa had reassured him that everything was okay, and while Dean believed him he couldn’t help but curl into his Papa and fist his tiny hands in the man’s shirt. 

Dean kept feeling this little niggle in the back of his mind. One he hadn’t felt since his last hunt. It was that little secondary instinct of his that went off whenever something was wrong. It was the little voice in the back of his mind that had kept him alive more times than he could count.

Something bad was going to happen.

He held onto his Papa as if by sheer determination whatever ill will headed their way would pass without causing them too much harm.

Dean found out how wrong his childish notion was when they encountered the state of the kitchen.

When neither his Grandma nor Grandpa called out a greeting, that little niggle in the back of Dean’s head blew out with full force. Something was _bad_. Something was _really_ bad.

He curled into his Papa’s neck and tried to hoist himself up higher.

He felt Papa take a few steps forward and the man gasped as he pushed Dean’s face into his neck. Whatever it was Papa did _not_ want Dean looking at it.

Dean’s emotions started to betray him, as the overwhelming fright manifested itself in tears that started dripping down his face. 

Then Papa was scrambling to grab something from Grandpa’s filing cabinet, and Dean was suddenly hearing a voice that had taken resident in his nightmares.

His father. 

John was in the fucking house.

Despite Papa’s desire to have Dean remain innocent to the scene before him Dean found his head turning to look at the other man.

More than two months removed from his father and Dean was still responding to him like a mindless machine.

What had him whimpering though was the chaotic mess that was the kitchen.

Cabinets, drawers, even the pantry had been searched through. Dean could clearly tell that John was searching for signs of witchcraft. Concealed hex bags. Ingredients for spells and potions. 

It scared Dean shitless.

John was the kind of man to shoot before he even found the questions to ask, and if he had gone through the entire house he definitely had questions. Which meant that his new grandparents…

“Relax son, ain’t no one home.”

Dean hadn’t caught the rest of what had been said, and from the rumbles he felt through Papa’s chest he _knew_ that something had been said. But he latched onto John’s words, and prayed that John wasn’t lying. That his grandparents weren’t home and that they were okay.

Then John had lifted his gun and pointed it at his Papa. And Dean’s blood ran cold. 

Throughout all of John’s lessons the number one thing that Dean had learned was that you never point a weapon that you don’t intend to shoot. It was gun safety 101. 

Just because the shooter wasn’t determined to pull the trigger it didn’t mean that the gun wouldn’t accidentally fire. 

It had happened before. It would happen again.

If John was pointing his gun it meant that there was only one way out of this mess. And that was by shooting.

He started crying and wailing. 

Neither of his daddies knew how to shoot. Hell, he had heard them making plans to go visit a gun range and get their certifications for gun safety just the other day. His Papa couldn’t shoot. 

But his father could.

Papa was talking and walking backwards, and Dean was freaking the fuck out. 

John was going to kill one of his daddies. And then what?

Was Dean just supposed to ignore the single greatest period of his life? Grow up a second time alongside of John? A man who had been harsh on him as a child, but who would surely be even worse on him as an infant.

His father wouldn’t play peek-a-boo with him on the couch, or blow raspberries on his tummy. His father wouldn’t let Dean make a mess while eating macaroni and cheese just because Dean liked it. There would be no more baths or snuggles. He would be lucky to get a sponge bath and cheap diapers. 

It occurred to Dean in that kitchen – faced with the collision of his old life and new life – that he didn’t want to go back to hunting. He didn’t _want_ to be _that_ Dean again.

He had loved the hunting life. The general “fuck you” that he gave to rules and social norms. He loved seeing new towns every day and meeting different people with interesting and various lives and lifestyles. 

He loved the fact that at the end of a long day he could sit down in a motel room with some illegally acquired beers and kick back a few as he contemplated the lives he had saved that day.

He had fucking loved it.

But he hated the loneliness. The constant desire for companionship. For a relationship. Hell, just a friend he could talk to that didn’t take the form of some smashed trucker sitting next to him at a bar. 

The motel rooms always stank. He probably would have had the smell of spermicide and cheap laundry detergent melded with his skin for the rest of his life if Sarah hadn’t worked her magic on him.

He now smelled like lavender fucking twenty-four seven and he loved it.

The diner food was shit, and more often than not gave him heartburn or gas. And the job itself sucked. He was thrown around, arrested, hit, stabbed and shot, and for what? He didn’t get _paid_ for his work. Hell, sometimes the people he saved even threatened him. 

It was a thankless job, and the only pats on the back he received were from his own hand. 

It was such a huge epiphany that rocked Dean’s world, and yet he had been surprised to find that his Papa had only just made it out of the sunroom by the time that Dean was collected his scattered thoughts.

It didn’t matter what Dean thought of his situation, seeing as he was still stuck in it.

Neither man had lowered their guns in the span of time that Dean was lost in his own head. And in fact he was still wailing himself. It was probably pissing his father off to no end that Dean was crying like an infant. And if he had the word capability he would be screaming a “because I fucking am!” at the man. 

He was thinking out his next verbal barb of “just because a six year old is able to hold a gun doesn’t mean he’s emotionally ready for it!” when he felt it. Papa was tipping. He was falling backward and there was _nothing_ to stop him.

Dean’s body seized up and it felt like full minutes passed between his heartbeats.

He felt Papa’s response to his fall being that the arm curled around Dean’s body became rigid. Somehow Papa’s shoulder curled more into his body so that Dean would be protected from the fall. 

He felt something hot and sticky splatter across his face before he heard the gunshot from behind him, and felt Papa’s body jerk once – twice – as he shot his own gun.

Then came the final impact of Papa falling to the ground, and Dean whimpered as Papa’s arm became painfully tight for a second as he protected him.

Time rushed forward then and Dean opened his wet eyes to see Papa floundering on the sidewalk. Blue eyes opened only once before they closed for good. 

Dean had it in him to stop crying and to crawl forward on Papa’s chest so he could try to pat at the man’s cheek. It was when his left knee encountered a wet spot that he looked down to see blood seeping through his Papa’s shirt. 

Dean squeaked and backed up.

His Papa had been shot. His Papa had been shot for him, and now he wasn’t conscious.

Dean’s heart started pounding and the return of the tears came again. 

His Papa was dead. Had to be. His Papa had died for him, and he wasn’t even _worth_ saving.

A low groan sounded behind Dean and he whirled his body around to study the scene up on the porch.

He could only see the tips of John’s shoes from his current angle, but the suggested position of the man’s body and the obvious blood splatter on the siding of the house only meant one thing. 

John had been hit too.

Dean scrambled off of Papa’s chest and scooted his way into the grass.

They were both going to die. John and Papa were both going to die and it was _all his fault._

The fact that he was losing one of his daddies hurt the most, but he cried out of a twisted sort of obligation to his father that John was going to be lost to him too.

Dean couldn’t handle the emotions he felt, or the gut-clenching heartache that the scene at the back of the house gave him to stay put any longer. 

He couldn’t find the strength in himself to try walking on his legs in that moment, but that didn’t keep him from crawling far enough away so that he was hiding among the cars that littered the backside of his Grandpa’s shed.

He curled up in a patch of overgrown grass and _cried._

He wasn’t sure how long he had been hiding. But it had been long enough for the sound of sirens entering the backyard and the sound of dozens of people descending upon the property to reach his ears.

It hadn’t occurred to Dean to think that anything was okay until he heard distinct shouting.

Something in the voice sounded warm and familiar, and with the adrenaline rush sapping all of his energy from him, he couldn’t find it in himself to stay awake.

It wasn’t until the distinct feel of two large and familiar hands wrapping around him and hauling him up into a cuddle that Dean allowed himself to give in to his exhaustion and blissfully fall asleep. 

*****

It had been a rough day – to say the least – but eventually Sam had found himself in a crowded hospital waiting room, hunkered down in a hard plastic chair, with his baby boy curled up on his chest. Dean had woke up on and off in the car on their way to the hospital. They had missed out on their chance to ride in with Cas as Sam and all remaining personnel had dispersed to search the area for Dean.

The longest and most traumatic five minutes of Sam’s life had taken place between Sam’s discovery that Dean had gone missing, and Dean’s near immediate return, but Sam was damn near positive he had almost had a heart attack during those five minutes. 

It wasn’t until he had plucked his little angel off of the ground and held his small weight against his chest that he felt like he could breathe easier. The necessary task of handing Dean off to the paramedics to get him checked out after they had discovered blood on the small boy had been difficult for Sam to comply with. And despite the fact that the female paramedic looking him over had been downright motherly with her touches Sam had to have his hand wrapped around Dean’s delicate ankle in order to keep himself calm.

It had been during Dean’s evaluation that he finally learned something about Cas’ condition, as the paramedic cutting through Dean’s onesie had worked on Cas.

A concussion, a sprained ankle, a shattered collar bone, and a gun shot wound to his right shoulder. The woman had been adamant in reassuring him that Cas’ life wasn’t in any danger. The biggest concern at the moment was putting an end to the bleeding, as Cas’ wound had bled out profusely and if it continued his life would eventually be at risk.

The paramedic concluded her check up with the news that Dean was fine, and that the blood splattered across the little boy’s face – that which hadn’t been washed away by tears – wasn’t his own.

Sam had collected his half-naked son, sad to see the end of his soft blue “Daddy’s Little Monster” onesie that Cas had bought the little boy weeks ago, but he understood the precaution of cutting Dean out of his clothes, lest there be some type of injury or sharp instrument imbedded in his clothing that could harm him should his clothing be removed naturally.

He didn’t care, as long as Dean was in his arms he would be okay.

He had then wrapped Dean up in his suit jacket and tucked Dean into his car seat in the back of Cas’ car before driving out to t hospital.

Dean had woke up and whimpered a few times along the way, and while Sam knew he had reassured the little boy he couldn’t recall his exact words.

It wasn’t until he had stopped by the nurse’s station to get the confirmation that Cas was in surgery that Sam realized he had no idea where his parents were. Usually Mary and Henry were at home during the day, but he hadn’t seen or heard any sign of them when he was at the house.

He had called them twenty minutes ago and they would be at the hospital soon. Turns out their church was having a rummage sale that Mary had convinced Henry to go to. Sam had never been happier about a church rummage sale before in his life. 

Since arriving at the hospital Sam was able to change Dean into a spare onesie that Cas had stashed in the diaper bag, and get a bottle in the little boy. Dean would react to whatever Sam needed him to do, but it was like someone had deflated the liveliness of his baby boy.

It wasn’t entirely surprising, as Dean had seen someone shoot his Papa. 

But Sam was still worried about their weepy baby boy. At the moment he was curled up high on Sam’s chest, head tucked under his chin. Sam had one arm cupped around his diapered bottom and the other one held onto his little foot to occasionally reach up and wipe the tears off that appeared on his cheeks.

Dean was awake and his little fingers were playing with the collar of Sam’s button up shirt. Sam was whispering soft things to his baby boy, just simple stuff. How much he loved him, how much Cas loved him. He had told Dean how his Papa was going to be okay. How they were _all_ going to be okay.

But none of it really seemed to get through to Dean.

He just stayed curled up to cry.

Sam wasn’t really sure what he could do to make Dean feel better, but he figured time and love would be his best bet.

He was softly humming Cherry Pie to Dean when he spied his parents walk into the waiting room. He held up a hand to slow their approach down, and his mom nodded and the two of them sat across from Sam with strong looks of anticipation on their faces.

Mary nodded her head towards Dean, and Sam heard the intended question.

“He’s okay,” Sam mouthed over the top of Dean’s head before he pressed a soft kiss to the boy’s crown.

He knew they also wanted to hear an update about Cas, but he hadn’t heard anything since he had shown up, and the nurses had promised him that he would hear any news as soon as they got it. He trusted them enough to not run up to the nurse’s station to check in every five minutes like he wanted to. 

The four of them sat quietly in their chairs for another two hours, long enough for Dean to need a diaper change and for him to fall into a fitful sleep, before a nurse approached their small group.

“Sam?” she spoke quietly, seeing Dean sleeping on his chest. 

Sam tilted his head up to look at her. He was seated awkwardly in the chair, long legs stretched far out into the aisle and his shoulders lying at the top of the chair. It was uncomfortable as hell for Sam, but it kept Dean flat on his chest and allowed Dean to curl up enough so that he could sleep. 

“Sam, your husband is coming out of surgery. They’re moving him to the ICU so they can keep a close eye on him. When they have him all set up we can take you to see him, but it may take a few hours for the anesthesia to wear off before he wakes up.”

“And Cas, is he – .”

“He’s fine,” she confirmed. And with a soft squeeze to Sam’s forearm she left.

Sam let out a big breath and his head dropped back to the wall behind him. He could rest easy now that he knew Cas was going to be okay.

But the most promising development that came from the nurse’s news was that Dean, who Sam thought to be sleeping, pulled himself up and wrapped arms around Sam’s neck in a motion that Sam interpreted as relief. 

It seemed Dean needed to see Cas more than he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments??


	20. Cas in Hospital (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working hard to get past all of this angst so that I can get back to sweet baby Dean! I have finally accomplished that with this chapter!
> 
> Didn't I promise ya'll that you had nothing to worry about?

There was a warm weight sitting on his lap that kept moving around. The constant motion turned into something for him to focus on other than the dull throbbing at the back of his head, which was really starting to annoy him.

The warm weight sure was wiggly. It kept trying to move up onto his chest, and it wasn’t until the weight was stretched out over his left side and his arm was pulled over it that he decided to fight the fatigue that was pinching his eyelids shut.

Cas opened his eyes – just to promptly shut them. He groaned at the pain that exploded over his head as the assault of bright lights overwhelmed his senses and he fought nausea, swallowing a handful of times to keep the contents of his stomach at bay before he tried opening them again – one eye at a time this go around.

He opened his left eye to a slit, and allowed his pupil to adjust to the light before doing so to the right one.

Someone was talking to him; he could recognize a voice, but not the words. The voice sounded shaky, like Cas’ eardrums weren’t functioning properly yet. But the voice didn’t matter. At the moment he wanted to spy the wiggly weight that was curled under his arm.

His body wasn’t listening to the orders that his brain was trying to execute. He was _trying_ to roll his head so he could look down, but all he could really do was jerk it around. 

Was he drugged?

The world started tilting then, and his body jolted. 

Tilting was bad. Tilting had got him into this situation in the first place. 

The tilting of the world stopped and from his new vantage point Cas could look down at the weight that had been wiggling so persistently.

It was…Dean.

It was Dean.

His head hurt just in remembering his son’s name. But he was there. And he was okay.

Cas moved his arm just enough so that he could brush his thumb over the boy’s cheek. Dean was curled up and sleeping, one cheek pressed into Cas’ chest, his emerald eyes closed, and his pouty pink lips popped open with just the tiniest hit of spittle. 

Dean’s little face was blood free, his darling freckles properly on display, as they should be. 

Cas elected to focus on that cherubic little face, and consequently ignored all of the activity that flourished outside of his perception.

He was extraordinarily confused. His brain full of so many questions and so jumbled that he couldn’t have even figured out where he was or what was going on if he tried.

All he knew was that Dean was okay. And with that bit of information he felt comfortable enough closing his eyes and going back under.

*****

Sam yawned hugely into his hand before riffling his hands through his hair, mussing it up in his attempt to stimulate himself into some form of wakefulness. He ran his fingers through his hair to comb it back into place and stretched the kink out of his back before going back to flipping idly through his magazine.

Cas had been in the ICU for almost four hours, and Sam had been sitting with him for a majority of that time. 

True to her word the nurse who had told Sam that Cas was out of surgery had escorted their little group back to Cas’ bedside as soon as they were able, and damn near immediately Dean had turned into a flying squirrel.

The little boy who had been docile in Sam’s arms _dove_ for Cas’ bed. It was Sam’s quick reflexes that kept Dean from smashing his own head in an attempt to check up on his Papa.

Sam had then held Dean out so that he could pat at his Papa’s cheek, and the little boy had stretched out to kiss Cas’ chin.

After that all Dean wanted was his Papa. And Sam couldn’t blame him. All _he_ wanted was his husband.

And they had him.

Sort of.

Cas had pulled through the surgery just fine, and the effects of the anesthesia were worn off by now, their only problem at the moment was the fact that Cas’ concussion wasn’t allowing him to wake up. The nursing staff had managed to get Cas to open his eyes a few times, though they didn’t stay open long. 

They had been quick to assure Sam that all was fine. Anesthesia combined with blood loss, combined with a concussion, combined with Cas coming down from his adrenaline high all meant that the man wasn’t going to be waking up quickly, and that was something that Sam just had to accept.

Dean however, was having none of it. Or, at least he wasn’t when he had been awake. 

Dean had been a squirrely, persistent little booger in his attempts to prod Cas awake. For roughly two hours Dean had been attempting to slide up Cas’ chest thinking that neither his Daddy nor his grandparents would catch him and move him back to Cas’ lap.

Everyone – hospital staff included – was okay with Dean being on his Papa’s lap, Dean’s presence would be good for the unconscious man. But it went without saying that Dean had no business being up by Cas’ shoulder wound or broken collar bone. 

Dean wasn’t particularly happy about that, and every time Sam wrapped his hands around his baby boy’s torso to haul him back down the scant few inches he had gained of higher ground he had been greeted with such an impressive little pout. 

The _good_ news about Dean being reacquainted with his Papa was that the little boy seemed to breathe easier. He was still a little subdued, but Sam had been able to distract him a little bit with one of their hard plastic interactive boards that Cas always kept in the diaper bag.

Dean had had fun pulling the soft colorful shapes off of the board that they had placed on Cas’ knees and running his little fingers over the soft material or placing them back on the board just to hear the sound of the Velcro sticking whenever he pulled it off. Dean was so interested in his play at times that Sam had to remind the little boy gently – on more than one occasion – that the green triangle went on the board, and not his mouth.

However, a few hours ago Sam would have to have been blind to not see the fact that he had a drowsy baby on his hands. Though perhaps he had been kind of blind, because he was about thirty seconds away from sleeping baby by the time he picked up on the fact that Dean was tired. Sam hadn’t been all that sure about where he would put Dean, usually if he wasn’t napping in his crib it was on the floor in his playpen or _on_ one of them. 

He had rolled his eyes at his own thickness. Cas’ left side was perfectly fine. 

Sam had stretched Dean out over the left side of Cas’ lower stomach and hip – ensuring that when Dean went _Superman_ and reached upwards in his sleep that he wouldn’t accidentally hit Cas’ bandages – and curled Cas’ arm around Dean’s back to hold their wiggly worm in place. 

Sure enough once his Papa’s arm was around him Dean was out.

And as luck would have it, once one of Sam’s boy’s fell asleep the other one decided to wake up.

Cas’ head had been jerky, and bloodshot eyes were squinting at the world. A nurse had come by when she saw him rousing – the vigilance the nurse’s all had was incredible, he would have to see what tips they had so he could apply them to Dean before he left – and when everyone realized that Cas was trying to look down without being able to lift his head they raised the upper half of the bed. 

The motion had startled Cas, but the confused man had only looked down at Dean, ran a thumb over his cheek, and went back to sleep.

He hadn’t even attempted to respond to the nurse’s or Sam’s questions.

It had been another thing he had been warned to accept. Cas’ concussion could only be completely determined once the man woke. It was possible that memory loss, sound and light sensitivity, and amnesia were all problems that the man would have to face. So it was likely that upon first waking up Cas was confused at the sights, the sounds, the smells and the location. 

It was another one of those, ‘he’s gonna be okay, he just hasn’t woke up yet’ kind of things.

After that point his parents left. 

They had been a nice presence for Sam to hold onto, as he had been strong for Dean until the boy fell asleep, so it was good that Sam had someone to be strong for him.

Mary and Henry were going back home to square away things with their home insurance and the police. They knew the very _basic_ story that had happened. Their house was trashed. Cas was shot. It happened at their house.

All details were true, and no matter what kind of story Sam spun he wouldn’t be able to avoid those facts. 

Sam groaned and reached up to rub his temples. That was another thing that they had to figure out. What the hell were they going to tell the cops? 

Sam still didn’t know anything concerning John. He didn’t know where he was, if he was alive, dead, in a coma, still in surgery, where he had been shot – Sam knew _nothing_. All he did know was that John wasn’t at the same hospital. 

John had immediately been pegged as the criminal in the situation, and once - _if_ – released from the hospital he would be making a trip down to the jail, so he had been taken to a hospital that had contracts with the local prison. 

The issue with Dean was sticky. _Technically_ this whole adventure had started off completely and truly without Dean’s consent. He hadn’t picked any of this. The fact that he seemed to choose it now was irrelevant. Cas and Sam were kidnappers. Plain and simple. 

The thing was, how could anyone prove it?

Dean Winchester was a nineteen year old boy with no permanent address who had fraud, petty theft, and other such crimes to his rap sheet. The boy had officially gone off the grid two months ago, and would likely never officially ‘go missing’ seeing as there wasn’t anyone who would notice the disappearance of the teen. 

Dean _Wesson_ was a seven month old who had been delivered to a hospital by a young woman claiming to be the boy’s mother. The woman had handed the unconscious boy off and walked away without a second glance. Sure, the woman was Sarah, but young mothers abandoned babies at hospitals and fire stations and police stations all the time. It was a sad fact of life. 

Dean Wesson had been nameless with a plain birth certificate until an official adoption had gone through in which his Father’s were legally listed as Samuel and Castiel Wesson. 

No one could prove that Dean didn’t belong to them – legally. But morally… Cas and Sam were on shaky ground. 

John had every right to be upset that his son had been stolen from him, but that didn’t mean that Sam and Cas had to throw away all of their hard work and hand off such a delicate little boy to the hardened man who had left such a negative thumbprint on Dean’s life the first go around that the boy had nightmares about his old Father ruining his current life. 

All of that was irrelevant though, because when the cops came asking – and they would come – then what the fuck would Cas say?

And that was the crappy part of the whole shebang. Sam couldn’t say anything. He hadn’t been involved. So, not only did Sam have to come up with a story to tell the cops, but he had to come up with a story that _Cas would remember_ to give to the cops. 

Sam felt a migraine coming on.

He stood up from this chair and stretched out his legs. His hips were growing a little sore at being crammed into the hard hospital chair and he was reminded of the kinks he had in his back during the week Dean had spent in the hospital.

Sam winced. Boy, did their life become more interesting since they brought Dean home.

He remained standing and sent a quick glance to his two boys in the bed. Neither of them were going to wake up soon. Dean hadn’t had a nap that morning, and despite the snoozing he had done earlier there wasn’t enough energy left in the little boy to not conk out for the rest of the night. 

Sam figured a quick trip to the coffee machine he had seen down the hall would be time well spent.

Taking his time down the hall to stretch his legs and spy something other than his husband, son, old magazines or apps on his phone Sam felt a little guilty about taking a minute to enjoy that first sip of coffee once he got his cup just how he liked it.

His family was passed out collectively in a hospital bed in the ICU behind him, and here he was enjoying a hot cup of coffee.

Sam felt himself crashing. Emotionally, mentally and physically he felt himself just drop. He couldn’t do this, he needed help, it was just unfortunate for Sam that he was a man too proud to ask for it.

He walked up and down the hallway a few times, taking sips from his paper cup of vending machine coffee in the hopes that if he just kept drinking a secret message of advice would appear at the bottom of his empty cup.

He stared at the leftover drops from his last gulp.

Nothing.

Sam sighed, crumpling the paper in his hands and tossing it before he started walking toward the mouth of the ICU. 

He was just about to walk through when he heard someone calling his name. 

“Wesson! Mr. Wesson!” He stopped and turned to see a police officer – the one who had held him back from the paramedics at the house – jogging towards him.

“Sir,” Sam greeted him.

The officer caught up with Sam and directed him away from the doorway to allow other people to come and go freely. 

“I just wanted to have a quick word with you in regards to the situation at hand,” he began.

Sam gulped. Here it was…

“First, I haven’t been updated, how is your husband doing?” the man asked with honesty. Sam could see in the man’s eyes that he was deep down concerned for Cas’ well-being. 

“He’s good, great. Came out of surgery fine. Just has a concussion and woke wake up, stubborn bastard,” Sam chuckled. It felt good to talk to someone.

The officer smiled himself, “I had a feeling he would be okay. Can’t be in the business as long as I have an not get a sense for these things.”

Sam nodded. 

“And your son?”

Sam smiled softly, “he’s better now that he’s with his Papa.”

It was the officer’s turn to nod, “I bet. I could only imagine how terrified your little boy was after seeing all of everything.”

Sam cleared his throat, “and uh – d’you – uh – know ab-about John?”

A grim look overcame the officer’s face. “Unfortunately I do.” The man adjusted his stance and looked Sam in the eye. “John’s wound was more fatal than your husband’s. Now, we’re working off of speculation here, but it seems that when your husband tripped off the porch he fired and the shot went off higher than your husband intended, seeing as post people aim for the chest. It offers a bigger target.”

Sam nodded, that all made perfect sense.

“The bullet hit high, catching John in the neck,” the officer tapped a spot on his own neck indicating where the shot landed, and his fingers pressed into the soft skin of his neck just under his jaw. 

“Now, paramedics had a pulse on him when they arrived on scene, but the man had lost a lot of blood before then. They were working on stabilizing him and determining the best course of action to care for his injuries when he arrived at the hospital. Unfortunately for him his wounds were too severe to treat and he died from blood loss.”

 _Died?_ John was _dead?_

“Oh my God.”

“If you ask me, your husband did the country a favor. I got a glimpse of John’s record,” the officer shivered. “You don’t want to know how many open murder investigations that man’s name was attached to.”

Sam had an idea.

“I just wanted to come and give you the news myself. Today’s been hard on you, what with your husband and son and all of this,” he gestured to the hospital at large, “I wanted to give you some peace of mind so that you and your family could rest easy tonight.”

And Sam would. Sam would sleep _so soundly_ tonight that _he_ might be the one needing a blanket and a pacifier, but that was more or less because with John’s death coming up with a story for the police would be a cake walk. 

No John? They could go with the story they told Dean. Cas wasn’t feeling well and decided to stop by Sam’s parents for the afternoon when Cas encountered a man who had broken into the house and started shooting. 

They had no prior encounters with John Winchester, so why did the story have to be more complex than that?

Sam threw his arms around the man and hugged him, “thank you.”

A handful of strong thumps to Sam’s back was the reply, and the man to man, solid contact felt great.

Sam turned back to the ICU with renewed vigor.

It wasn’t until he got back to Dean that Sam realized the final problem. 

John was dead. 

And what would Dean think of that?

*****

“Is that fun sweetheart?” Cas asked as he watched his giggly boy fall back onto his lap.

Dean’s baby-giggles made way for a “yuh,” just before he crawled up on his chest to do it all over again.

Cas snorted and adjusted Dean, lying him out across his stomach and chest so that his feet were planted on his sternum and his head rested just over his belly button as he flattened the bed out so he could once again ‘flip’ his baby boy.

They had been doing this for the last twenty minutes when Cas realized that when he raised the upper half of his bed with Dean in this position that Dean was able to push off using his legs and flip over so he landed on the soft blanket across his knees. 

It took forever to set up for each flip – hospital beds didn’t move at top speeds – but Dean found it fun and Cas wanted to do _anything_ possible to make life easier on the little boy if they were going to be stuck in the hospital for a few more days. 

Cas flipped Dean again and at Dean’s pestering of “guh-nn, guh-nn,” which was the boy’s closest approximation of saying “Again! Again!” he sighed and shot a look to his husband who only snorted. 

“Don’t look at me,” Sam said holding up his hands defensively, “you’re the one who started this game.”

Cas rolled his eyes and decided to just flip Dean around so he could cuddle the boy and smell his soft lavender scented hair.

“Give Papa a break kiddo,” he pleaded, and Dean nodded in understanding, going wherever his Papa put him and sucking on the pacifier that Sam handed over.

Cas carded his fingers through Dean’s hair and closed his eyes.

Last night he had been moved to a regular room. Sam and Dean had left since visiting hours were over, but it didn’t matter, as Cas had been out of it regardless. That morning he had woke up without any fireworks just for his husband to envelope him in a hug that caused Cas to yelp and gasp out “Shoulder!” as Sam put too much pressure on the stitching that Cas was sure littered his wound.

Sam had told him to suck it up, because he was never letting go, and then it was up to Cas to hold on tight as his husband cried. Pleased that Cas had finally woke up.

Dean hadn’t been there yet. Mary and Henry had stayed the night – they didn’t feel right being at home and wanted to be with Sam and Dean at the time – and had been treating Dean to a Grandma approved breakfast before they stopped by to drop the little boy off and visit Cas for a bit.

After receiving hugs from his in-laws Mary and Henry had gone back home to work on getting their home back in order. 

It had shocked the two that nothing had been taken “he was a damn fool for a crook,” Henry had said, and Dean had had a funny look on his face whenever he looked at Henry.

Cas kind of had a theory as to why. From his fuzzy memory of John’s face the gruff and grizzled man held a kind of resemblance to Dean’s biological father. Dean probably felt wary looking at the man, as his face probably brought about emotions that he associated with his father.

Before Dean and Sam’s parents made an appearance, he and Sam had a quick conversation. Sam laid out the bare facts for him. John was dead. Cas had shot him in the neck, and the man bled out. 

Cas had a hard time focusing completely on the conversation, but he knew what Sam wanted him to say, he didn’t know John, and he wasn’t sure what happened. And that worked right in Cas’ wheelhouse, because truth be told Cas couldn’t really remember all of what happened the day before. 

He could remember arriving at Mary and Henry’s, and he could even remember seeing John with the gun, and that Cas had fired his own weapon, but for the life of him Cas couldn’t remember the details of everything that happened.

Cas settled down with Dean and kept his eyes shut. The blinds in the room were already shut, and the lights had been turned off because darkness was the only thing that kept his head from feeling like razor blades were rattling around. 

Being there with John was terrifying. Cas remembered the fear he had that he wasn’t going to ever wake up and see his son again. So lying there in the hospital bed Cas made sure to take the time to just enjoy having his baby boy resting on his chest.

*****

Dean was curled up with Papa, and quite frankly there wasn’t any other place he’d rather be. 

After thinking the worst possible case scenario had happened with his eldest daddy Dean had been so relieved to hear that he was going to be okay. 

It had been the most miserable form of limbo that they were stuck in while in the waiting room. They had nothing to do until finding out the situation with Papa, and when the news came through that he was okay, _fuck_ Dean finally understood what people meant when they said a weight had been taken off of their chest.

Seeing Papa in the ICU had been wonderful, Dean had been so excited to see his Papa and the opportunity to snuggle the man – regardless of consciousness – had been so wonderful. That was until Dean totally passed out on Papa’s chest and found himself waking up in Daddy’s car on the way back home with the promise that a plate of Grandma’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes was waiting for him. 

Both Grandma and the meatloaf were welcome distractions from the situation at hand, though Grandpa was a different story. 

After the run in with John Dean finally realized what it was about Henry that made him so hesitant toward the man. He looked like John.

The same facial hair and gruff attitude that John had were present in Henry, it was just – toned down. Where John was the man to raise a soldier, Henry was the man to raise a gentleman. There was a difference there that was fundamental to Dean’s understanding of parenting. A man can raise a son with a firm hand, but that man didn’t have to raise his son like John had raised Dean. 

Dean had spent a good portion of the night studying his grandpa in a new light. 

He was coming to all kinds of conclusions lately.

That had been last night though. Currently he was up in Daddy’s lap, ramrod straight so his eyes could be on Papa as he sucked down his bottle in record time so Daddy would put him back in Papa’s bed.

He would have preferred to be cozy in Papa’s arms, drinking his milk like how it usually happened, but Dean had to grudgingly accept that Papa’s shoulder wound would keep him out of commission for a few days. 

The sound of Daddy’s chuckle disrupted Dean’s thoughts and brought his eyes from Papa to Daddy’s face to try and figure out what the man was laughing at.

“You don’t have to stare so much sweetheart, Papa’s not going anywhere,” his younger daddy assured him. 

But Dean was unconvinced. The only way he could be certain that the man wasn’t about to make an unscheduled disappearance was if Dean kept his eyes on him at all times.

Dean blinked and turned back around, eyes landing on his Papa where they belonged. 

“Looks like I have a guard dog,” Papa said sleepily. 

Papa sounded sleepy a lot lately. Dean knew he had hit his head pretty hard, probably enough for a concussion. If that was the case Dean knew Papa’s pain. Dean’s had lots of concussions before.

Dean sighed, lips still wrapped around the bottle’s nipple, and he risked a glance at the milk level he still had left, and somehow – despite his snuffling and dribbling like a little piglet in his attempt to drink down the bottle Daddy was forcing upon him – he still had like half the bottle to go. 

He pulled his lips away and whined. Daddy knew what he meant.

“Uh-uh, no way monkey,” Daddy replied. “I don’t care how much meatloaf you packed away last night, you’re finishing this bottle mister.”

Daddy wiggled the bottle teasingly, and Dean reluctantly relatched.

Papa’s snort drew his attention and Dean spied a smile overtake the man’s face. “I’m so happy to see that Dean’s still his regular grumpy self.”

Dean rolled his eyes at that. 

Both of his daddies – along with the police, his grandparents and the entire flipping nursing staff – were convinced that Dean was suffering some great emotional trauma from seeing his Papa being shot. But – don’t get him wrong, it was traumatic as fuck – it was just that Dean was able to pull experience from his hunting past to know how to deal with this situation. 

Past experience told him that, yeah, allowing himself to see just how horrific the whole thing was had been a perfectly reasonable response. After all, Dean _watched_ someone shoot his Papa. Old Dean or New, he’s going to have an emotional response to that. 

The thing was, once he found out that Papa was okay Old Dean would brush off all of the trauma that lingered. It was like a coping mechanism. You couldn’t have hunters who went around carrying two tons of emotional baggage just because they never learned to drop that shit when it was no longer necessary. 

Sure, it was unhealthy. No one was ever going to accuse a hunter of being well emotionally adjusted, but it came in handy for this new life. It was the exact reason why everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop when it seemed like the seven month old with absolutely no negative side effects seemed to be completely okay with the fact that he had witnessed some man shoot one of his daddies. 

Dean knew the truth though. He _wasn’t_ okay. And despite the fact that his daddies fucking _knew_ what had happened to John after they left – and they totally fucking did, Dean would have to be blind, deaf and stupid to not pick up on that fact – they weren’t saying squat to him. 

It didn’t really matter though. Dead or alive John Winchester would be a staple in Dean’s nightmare material for the rest of his life. It would be something that his daddies and him would have to deal with for years, and sitting there, being bottle fed from his Daddy in Papa’s hospital room Dean could bet on the fact that years down the road when Dean was _finally_ able to drink liquor _legally_ for the first time that he would be looking to his daddies for a hug and kind words.

And _damnit,_ Dean looked forward to that future.

Well, not the nightmares per say, but a future where no matter what his age he could always expect a hug and an ‘unwanted’ kiss on the forehead from the two people who loved him most.

That? Well, that was all in the future though. At the moment Daddy and Papa were convinced that the best way to ‘help’ Dean through this tragedy would be by planning an unexpected vacation somewhere. 

It was just likely that the two men were looking for ways to keep him distracted until this whole situation with John blew over. Though he would be lying if he said it wasn’t working. 

Dean allowed himself to relax a little in Daddy’s lap, just enough for his head to fall back onto the man’s chest. That didn’t mean that he took his eyes off of Papa however. He suckled at his bottle and allowed himself to daydream about the possible things he could weasel out of his daddies in their attempt to spoil him during this particular rough patch.


	21. Introduction of the "Dean Pocket"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick chapter. But I'm posting it for two reasons. I wanted to let you guys know that I'm going to be busy for the next month or so as school wraps up, and I know that you guys have been patiently waiting for an update. I also missed hearing from you lovelies! (Okay, so make that three reasons) 
> 
> For pictures on what Cas' medical gear looks like check out the end notes!
> 
> (The air boot is the exact one that I had earlier this year when I sprained my ankle. Go me!)

Cas bent over and readjusted the straps on the air boot that he wore over his sprained ankle. The air boot was a simple device, with a curved rubber bottom which made walking on his injury very easy, but gave him a slowed pace and an awkward looking gait. 

He sat up slowly, and allowed the dull throbbing in his head to pass before he took a deep breath and stood up from the couch. 

His sling was already in place, and he contorted his torso a little bit to allow the band to settle more comfortably about his waist. He wasn’t wearing one of those plain slings, _Oh no_ , it had to be one of those around the waist fuckers that held his arm up at an angle over his chest so that the hand of his bad arm ended up over his heart – as if he was saying the pledge of allegiance. 

Something about ‘inflamed tissue’ the ‘potential for scarring’ and the ‘shattered collarbone’ meant that a simple no fuss sling wasn’t enough for him. 

Cas rubbed angrily at his forehead to dissipate the constant headache that bloomed whenever he was awake. 

He shuffled forward from the couch, grateful that he never felt unsteady in the boot that encompassed his ankle, and he got no more than two steps out before he heard a couple dozen quick slaps against the floor and felt a tug on the hem of the shorts he was wearing. He glanced down to see Dean holding firmly onto his leg with his tiny little fingers, his soft hair ruffled from his afternoon nap and a pout in place behind the camo pacifier he was sucking on.

Dean’s green eyes were locked onto his own and Cas wished he could reach down and pat the boy’s golden crown, but he wasn’t able to reach him with his good hand. So Cas gave him a small smile before walking into the kitchen, Dean hanging onto his leg and following him every step of the way. 

The boot helped him to already walk at a slower pace, but when Dean clung to him like that he made sure to walk even slower. Dean was getting in a lot of practice with walking by holding onto his Papa like that, but the little boy had to take a few steps for every one that Cas took.

Cas got to the bar in the kitchen and then paused. He rubbed over the persistent throb in his temple and leaned up against the counter. A soft band of warmth encircled his knee and he smiled down at Dean, who had wrapped his arms around his leg and laid his head against the side of Cas’ thigh. Dean’s eyelids were droopy and the sight warmed Cas’ heart once again.

He had been home for a few days now – today was the, third… it was the third day, he was pretty sure – and Dean had been his constant companion the entire time. 

Cas had been in the hospital for just under a week. Long enough to make sure his blood count got back up, so that the staff was confident there wasn’t any residual swelling or complications from when he hit his head, and to be sure that the work they had done in removing the bullet from his shoulder and in setting his collar bone was healing nicely. 

Sam had taken off work to be with Cas in the hospital, and Dean usually showed up in the afternoons with Sam’s parents. 

It had been a difficult six days in the hospital, as all Cas wanted was to simultaneously have his baby boy sleeping on him at all times, yet to keep his innocent little boy out of the hospital as much as possible.

Cas had been so thrilled when he was allowed home and was able to snuggle Dean on the couch. 

Leaving Dean with Henry and Mary happened for a few reasons. It was party because they wanted Dean away from the hospital, he didn’t need to see his Papa lying in a hospital bed, but it was also because of the visits they received from the police department. 

In the wake of the shootout Cas had with John, law enforcement had allowed Cas two days to recover from his injuries before they came out to talk to him. No one was in a rush to get his story on what had happened with John, as the police seemed kind unconcerned with John’s death, and after hearing a snippet of the man’s police record Cas understood why.

Sam had coached him slightly on what to say, he was to claim that he wasn’t feeling well the day of the accident, and that he had gone over to his in-laws so they could watch Dean while he rested. Sam told him to be as vague as possible with what happened at the house after he arrived, which worked well considering the fact that he couldn’t remember much of what had happened anyways – all thanks to his concussion.

Hell, the morning that a representative from the Sheriff’s department came in to talk to him Cas couldn’t even remember the first half of the story Sam had told him. It had been Sam who related the cover story that Cas had stopped by the office prior to heading to his parents where he was planning to rest for a bit until Sam could get off of work.

Cas wasn’t able to recall anything else, even when prodded with details given to him by the person taking his statement. 

Sam had then been questioned as to why he had called the police if he had no reasonable excuse as to why he had sent the police to his parent’s house that day.

Sam’s face broke out into a sheepishly embarrassed expression as he told the police officer that after not being able to reach either his husband or his parents that he had instinctually called the police in fear that something bad had happened.

The man hadn’t looked too pleased at Sam’s confession, but he had also chuckled and made a quip about Sam having crime fighting psychic powers. 

Cas could remember this. He could remember the conversation and the confusion, but he couldn’t remember what in the hell he had walked into the kitchen for when his purpose had been so crystal clear not ten minutes ago when he was sitting on the couch.

He sighed and looked down to sleepy green eyes that were staring up at him. 

“Do you remember what Papa came in here for, sweetheart?”

Dean nodded and held his arms up.

It had taken a little getting used to, but Cas was able to manage picking Dean up with one arm very easily. All he had to do was wrap his arm around the little boy and Dean would hang on as Cas swung him up. 

That’s what he did now and he settled Dean’s warm body against his hip, pressing a kiss to the top of his head when Dean laid it against his chest.

It seems that someone was still a little tired from his nap.

Dean pointed to a collection of pill bottles in the center of the kitchen island before he curled back up to Cas’ chest.

That was right; it was time for Cas’ pain pill.

He sat down at the counter and set Dean down on the edge to free up his arm. Dean refused to move from his position where he was snuggled against his chest, and so Cas merely pressed his nose into the boy’s hair and pulled the collection of bottles closer. 

There was a piece of paper under the bottles and he pulled that closer too. It was a note from Sam, written in his clean block handwriting telling him which doses to take and when. A glance to the clock on the oven told him which pill to swallow.

He did so dry before curling his good arm around Dean’s back and sighing. 

“Has Papa fed his good boy lunch yet?”

He honestly couldn’t remember if he had. He knows he did yesterday, but for today…he was fuzzy.

Dean nodded against his chest before pulling his head back to look up at him. 

“Ba?” he chirped from behind his binky.

“You want a bottle?”

Dean nodded and rubbed at his sleepy eyes. 

“Papa can do that, do you want down, or do you want to cling to Papa like a monkey?”

Dean frowned at him as if his question was the most ridiculous thing Dean had ever heard, and proceeded to say something that could possibly pass for ‘monkey’ if one was fluent in baby-speak.

“Okay, hold on,” he ordered, and two little arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck. Cas scooped Dean off of the counter and helped the little boy slip between the wrap that his forearm was settled in so that his feet could rest along the band that went across Cas’ stomach. Once Dean had a solid footing he stood up, his weight being split between the strap and his arms around Cas’ neck, allowing him free use of his one good arm.

Cas and Dean had discovered the little trick by accident. Cas had wanted to put Dean down in the playpen on his first day back at home, and Dean had latched on and scrambled at Cas’ body to keep from being let go. Dean’s little arms had ended up around his neck, and little toes were digging into his belly button as a decidedly squirmy and whiny little boy latched onto Cas and wouldn’t let go.

Nothing short of sheer violent force would remove Dean from that position, especially when Cas moved him between his forearm and his chest so that he could clamp the little boy into place. And so Cas felt comfortable heating up a bottle for his baby boy while he hung on, rubbing his tired eyes into the fabric of his shirt.

Cas winced every now and then, able to do so freely without hiding the reaction from Dean. 

The only downside to Dean’s clinging to him like that was it hurt his collarbone something fierce. Sure, Dean wasn’t actually touching the place where the break had occurred, nor where the bullet had hit him, but Dean was putting pressure around the area which hurt plenty. 

Not that he would _ever_ let Dean know that. Hell no. All Dean really wanted lately was to cuddle with his Papa and Cas wasn’t about to do anything to discourage that. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head and heard the boy release a tired sigh. 

Before the bottle was entirely finished heating he heard the front door open and a male voice call out a cheerful greeting.

Cas felt one second of deep down panic set in before he remembered, “Hey _Sean, Shane –_ Steve!” he called out after mumbling names to himself. 

He found himself doing that lately. Thanks to the concussion he had a hard time processing names. It was never that he _forgot_ someone’s name, but more or less that he couldn’t retrieve it from his memory. His doctor told him that it was a normal symptom to have after a concussion, but it still made him feel like crap every time he accidentally called Dean _Dane_.

It was all the same letters though, that counted for something, right?

Cas watched as Steve walked into the kitchen carrying a baby carrier and a pet carrier – the last one making Cas’ eyebrow lift up.

“Does Sam know you carry Dean around like that?” he asked, gesturing toward Cas’ chest with his head.

Cas scoffed and turned off the stove to retrieve Dean’s bottle from the water, “I don’t think he’d leave me home for a minute if he found out, but Dean loves it and that’s all I care about,” he replied drying the bottle off after he tested the temperature on the back part of his hand that was visible from the sling.

“Hannah sleeping?” 

“Yeah, no,” Steve said, lifting a little girl that looked just as tired as his own little boy. “She woke up just before we pulled in. Right Princess?” He kissed the girl’s forehead and Cas smiled at the half-lidded stare that Steve received.

“I’m going to go throw Princess in her tower; you get back to the couch and feed Dean, yeah?”

Cas smiled and followed Steve’s orders.

The two men had traded frequent texts since Cas and Dean’s first and only appearance at the ‘Daddy and Me!’ class. About five percent of their conversations consisted of trying to set up play dates for the two kids, though whenever one person was available the other wasn’t. Otherwise their texts were just the regular _shoot-the-shit_ conversations guys had. 

It wasn’t until Cas was in the hospital and Sam charged Cas’ dead cell phone that he found several missed texts from the man. The last of which “jokingly” inquired about Cas’ questionable demise.

When Steve had found out what happened to Cas he had volunteered to come over a few hours during the day with Hannah so he could help Cas out while Sam was at work.

It came as a blessing too. As Sam’s unexpected time off needed to be made up. The last big case Sam’s firm had won still needed to be settled which meant paper work. _Lots_ of paper work. 

So Sam was working over time each day to get it all under control before they could take some _scheduled_ time off for a well deserved family vacation.

Mary and Henry were equally busy as well, with insurance people as they waded through their own forms of paper work in order to get through the insurance coverage they had on some of their more costly items in the house that John had recklessly broken. 

That, and well, as much as Cas _loved_ his in-laws there was only so much he felt comfortable with them helping with.

Cas settled down on the couch and laid back on the warm musty pillow that he had been lying on for the last three days, throwing the air boot heavily onto the pile of pillows it usually rested on. Dean wiggled downward to remove himself from the sling and curled up nice and cozy between the couch and Cas on his good side. 

Cas pulled the pacifier out of the little boy’s mouth and replaced it with the rubber teat of the bottle as he watched Steve crouch down to run a hand through Hannah’s hair as the little girl worked to wake herself up and orient herself in the environment she was now in.

“You need help showering today?” Steve asked suddenly.

Cas sighed. He had been putting off the shower because he knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. This was exactly what Cas was talking about when he said there was only so much he felt comfortable with his in-laws helping with. It was going to be awkward enough with Steve.

“Guess I can only put if off for so long, huh?”

Steve chuckled and stood up from where he was by the playpen. “Yeah. I know you keep saying that your smell won’t bother Sam, but you smell pretty rank.”

Cas’ lips quirked into a soft smile as he looked down at Dean sucking away contentedly at his bottle. His little fingers were toying with one of the straps that went across his chest.

“Yeah, after this one’s done we’ll head upstairs and give it a shot.”

“Alright, Steve said sweeping his way through the living room to grab half empty cups, dirty dishes and random towels and clothes that Cas had managed to accumulate in the room since Steve’s last visit. 

Cas was about to thank the man again until a small fist hit the good side of his chest, Dean looked up and shook his head slightly, reminding Cas that Steve had told him the day before that he didn’t want to hear Cas say another word of thanks, as the two of them were now friends and that’s “what friends do for each other.”

Cas smiled and went back to looking up at the ceiling. 

The throbbing in his head was getting pretty bad again and when Steve came through the room again he asked him to throw the curtains shut. 

“You still want to try that shower?” he asked as he plunged the room into semi-darkness. Sam, aka the _Best. Husband. Ever._ had outfitted the house with black-out curtains throughout the entire house to keep out the worst of the harsh late summer sun.

Cas closed his eyes, and thought that if he was forced to get up and move around at that moment that he might throw up. Nausea was rolling over him fast.

“Probably not.”

He heard steps approaching him and felt Steve’s warm fingers rub lightly at his forehead in the exact way that Cas did whenever it hurt.

“Thanks,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

“Just go ahead and sleep Cas, I’ll take care of Dean for you.”

Cas hummed something that could have been interpreted as acceptance and allowed himself to painstakingly fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas' air boot:  
> http://www.amazon.com/Short-Walker-Fracture-Boot-Medium/dp/B009G5QAM2
> 
> Cas' sling:  
> http://www.angelmedorthopaedic.co.uk/Uploads/clavibrace_3a.jpg
> 
>  
> 
> The sling I described isn't *entirely* accurate. So sue me.


	22. Fucking Babies Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to ask, because I have supremely missed you guys, how many times did you reread either A. The whole story, B. Certain Chapters, or C. Certain Scenes, during my absence? (And if so, what parts were they!)
> 
> And yes, I am officially done with the semester! For those of you who were kindly asking about classes I'm expecting either A's or B's in all classes, thank Jesus, so now I can relax for a few months and spoil you guys with updates like I did before the semester started. 
> 
> As always, Read. Review. Enjoy!
> 
> YAY!

When Papa’s breathing evened out Dean released a sigh and cuddled further into the man’s warm arm. Being with Papa all day was exhausting. Dean hardly got any sleep. The man was constantly up and down. Passing out on the couch for short periods of time before waking up confused and disoriented until Dean was able to rush over and help him remember things. 

He shuffled his bare feet around and stuck his toes into the warm waist band of Papa’s basketball shorts. 

Papa liked the house nice and cool since he came home, claiming that the cooler air felt better for his head. 

And Dean, _huh_ , well if Papa was up and down for naps then so wasn’t Dean, because he wasn’t about to let Papa go roaming about the house and accidentally take his pain pills twice or something. 

It was an important job – looking after Papa – and he was only moderately irritated with having to share the responsibility with Steve.

The guy was… he was okay. But he wasn’t Papa or Daddy. That was for sure. 

For starters the man treated him like such a _baby_ , and seven and a half months old or not, Dean didn’t like that shit at all.

“Hey big guy,” Steve whispered, approaching Dean’s comfy little nest of Papa, “how about you finish your nap out with Hannah in the playpen huh?”

Dean growled as the man curled his hands around Dean and hauled him over to the playpen without waiting for Dean’s answer.

Papa and Daddy would have waited.

The man was always doing stuff without asking first, and while Dean wanted to put up a fuss he didn’t want to disturb Papa from the little bit of sleep that he was able to grab.

Steve placed him on his bottom in the playpen; facing Hannah who was standing up to tap quietly at the keys of a baby piano Papa and Daddy had bought him. The piano was making no noise however; as Daddy had removed the batteries to keep Dean from mashing the keys in his attempt to recreate some of the classics.

Bitch.

Dean turned around to stare at the guy and point at his open _empty_ mouth. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Dean, let me get a paci for you,” the man cooed as he ruffled Dean’s hair. “It’s so impressive that you always ask for what you want,” he added to himself.

Dean rolled his eyes. Yes, yes. He could ask for a _pacifier_ , we’re all very impressed.

The man stood up and pulled an end table drawer open to pluck out a clean pacifier for Dean, and he thanked the man by allowing him to pop it into Dean’s mouth for him.

Dean turned back, sucking placidly, and watched Hannah drop down onto her padded butt before she started crawling over to Dean.

And here we go…

Steve brought Hannah with each time he came over. And every time he had to quietly put up with the drool bag when they were crammed into the playpen together. 

It was frustrating. He let her play with his toys, pull his hair and get her slobber all over everything. Was that really the thanks he got for watching Papa all day?

Dean sighed and curled up around the soft blanket that had been left in the playpen. Maybe if he pretended to be sleeping she would – nope. Nope. Wasn’t working. 

She was patting at his arm and babbling away in some nonsensical manner. Fucking babies man.

Dean rolled over onto his back and shot her a glare. He still hadn’t figured out how to make a baby leave him alone. He had tried taking his stuff away from her, crawling away, saying no, crying. Nothing worked. She was just determined to pester Dean into oblivion.

Dean tilted his head so he could spy Papa on the couch upside down. 

Papa wasn’t moving though. Just sleeping on the couch. Just as Dean had left him. 

Dean huffed a sigh around his pacifier and looked back to Hannah. She was playing with a handful of Dean’s wooden blocks, though _slobbering_ was a better term for what she was doing. 

The corner of one block was wedged into her mouth – wasn’t she done teething yet? Dean had quit that shit a couple of weeks ago, and no longer chewed on random items, though his pirate ship didn’t count, that thing was _meant_ for chewing, or so Dean had decided – and looking at her gnaw on the corner made Dean happy that Papa and Daddy had the forethought to buy baby toys for when other nipple-suckers happened to stop by. 

Dean was about to roll over and crawl towards the collection of particle boards with different games on them – something about that damn green triangle, Dean was convinced it was enchanted to be more interesting than it actually was – when Steve stepped up to the side of the playpen and scooped him up without any warning. 

“Uh?” he whined out, but Steve didn’t find it necessary to answer what was very clearly a question that Dean had so kindly asked – he hadn’t screamed or nothing!

Just another difference between Steve, and Daddy and Papa, at least Daddy and Papa always answered him.

Dean was carried into the kitchen where he had to answer his own question by looking around for clues. 

He noticed that Steve had cleaned up for starters. Garbage was cleared out, recycling all folded up and removed – probably out to the garage – the stack of dishes was gone, though the dishwasher wasn’t running, which suggests that Steve washed and dried them by hand. 

There was also a pot on the stove which – if Dean’s eyes could be trusted – held cooling spaghetti noodles.

Dean might have not personally liked his caretaking skills – for himself – but Steve was quite the guy. Dean probably wouldn’t think that Steve sucked if they had met in Dean’s previous life.

Steve set Dean down on the counter next to the sink where – yep, he guessed correctly – his bathing insert was already placed. Dean was getting his daily bath. He pulled out his pacifier and toyed with it before letting it drop to the counter between his legs. 

The man didn’t only help with household crap, but helped to take care of Dean during the day and to get all of the necessities out of the way so that Papa didn’t have to struggle through it and so Daddy didn’t have to worry about it by the time that he got home.

Dean was only wearing a long t-shirt over his diaper so it would only take a few seconds for Steve to get him undressed.

It was just as the shirt was coming up over his head that Dean saw a flash of grey move up onto the counter. 

He ducked under Steve’s hands and batted them away so he could spy the cat that had landed on the counter beside him.

His eyes went wide and he scooted backwards a little with a small whine when the cat’s eyes locked on his.

“Is that a kitty cat?”

Dean threw a frown in Steve’s direction; of course it was a goddamn cat. 

“You don’t have to be scared sweetheart.”

Not scared you moron, just fucking allergic.

The cat sashayed forward two steps and Dean whined again, inching closer to the sink. 

Steve, the consoling idiot, thought that Dean was scared and put his hand at his back to hold him from moving back any further, which only served to increase Dean’s agitation as the cat was closing in.

Shirtless and defenseless with no way out Dean gave in to the babyish instinct to cry, and at the first shrill note the cat’s ears twitched and the beast paused in its quest to rub its head against Dean’s round, pink tummy.

Steve responded by hauling Dean up so he was standing on the counter, and cuddled him against his chest. But that didn’t really help Dean, as his legs were still susceptible to the feline behind him.

“There’s no need to cry honey, Kitty isn’t going to hurt you,” the man said brushing his fingers over Dean’s back. 

Or at least he thought it was Steve’s hand, it wasn’t until he realized that the man had hands under Dean’s armpits that he registered the fact that the pressure on his back was the cat’s head. 

“See, Kitty just wanted to say hi.”

At this point Dean could see that he wasn’t going to be heard unless he went to extreme measures; he mentally apologized to Papa on the couch before going in for the big one. He sucked in a deep breath and let out a high shriek the next time that _‘Kitty’_ bumped his head against Dean’s back.

Steve’s reaction was immediate. 

He swept Dean up into his arms and turned him away from the counter, taking a few steps away until he doubled back upon remembering that Papa was trying to sleep in the other room.

Dean was instantly happy that his actions had brought him away from the cat, but found that the startled breaths and sniffles that he emitted weren’t voluntary.

Being up against that cat when he didn’t want to really got to him in a way he wasn’t expecting. Dean was about to suck it up and cuddle up against Steve’s chest when they heard rustling from the other room followed by Papa’s confused sounding “Dane?”

Dean was willing to look past Papa’s confusion at being woken up so unexpectedly if Steve would just let him snuggle with Papa for a few minutes.

“He’s alright Cas, just a little startled is all. Go back to sleep,” Steve explained over the top of Dean’s head. 

And what the shit? Didn’t Dean get a say in how he was feeling? 

“No,” Dean pouted lowly when Steve kept walking in circles around the kitchen, having to constantly reassure Dean as he kept working himself up over nothing.

“Nu-noh,” he whined out his frustrations at the man not listening to him, shoving his face in Steve’s shirt and grabbing great big fistfuls to wipe his achy eyes on. That – however – turned out to be a bad idea, as Steve seemed to be a chronic cat-cuddler and Dean’s face was assaulted with stray cat hairs. 

Dean’s whining increased in agitation, and his hitched breathing gave Steve pause. 

“What’s wrong baby Dean? Are you still scared of Kitty?”

“Noh.”

“Do you want to take a bath?”

“Noh.”

“You wanna go play with Hannah?”

“Nu- _ohhh_ ,” he shrieked, and his voice cracked as he was still crying. 

Usually Dean had no problem reigning in his emotions, but something about being kept from Papa, being taken care of _incorrectly_ and being confronted with a goddamn cat left him emotionally wrung out. 

He was sniffly, and weepy, and he just wanted to cuddle up with Papa and finish crying out on the man’s chest.

He leaned back in Steve’s arms and directed the most forlorn look he could manage up at the guy.

“Ah?” he croaked.

Steve – for all he was a great guy and an even better dad to Hannah – wasn’t the man who was going to solve Dean’s tired and cranky bought of tears, and Dean was relieved to see a look of understanding cross the man’s face.

“You want Papa huh?”

“Yuh.”

“I bet you do,” Steve reasoned as he sat on one of the stools at the counter in the kitchen. “Uncle Steve just isn’t cutting it huh?”

Dean responded with a petulant and indistinguishable “Not my uncle,” even as he tiredly rested his cheek to Steve’s chest. 

The man kept sweeping his big – but not big like Daddy’s – hand over Dean’s back, and Dean recognized the man’s tactic in trying to wait out Dean’s tears. 

Well two could play at that. So Dean let go and allowed himself to relish in the freedom of crying like an irrational baby would when they were cranky and didn’t get their way.

Some time later the battle of wills came to an end – when Dean promptly fell asleep against Steve’s shoulder. The man had succeeded in waiting out Dean’s exasperated crying, but seeing as how Steve’s response was to simply redress Dean in his t-shirt and lay him out across his Papa’s chest it was a tossup as to who the winner was.

Dean considered it a forfeit on Steve’s part, as clearly Dean was so comfortable with his impending victory that he was confident with his ability to fall asleep and wake up the victor. Steve giving him what he wanted after the fact was simply the guy not being man enough to admit defeat to Dean while he was awake – or so he rationalized to himself.

Coward.

And so it was that Dean succeeded in avoiding a bath with Steve. Though Dean still wasn’t so sure what made him so against a bath in the first place.

In retrospect a bath might have saved Dean further misery.

*****

Sam was able to get home an hour earlier than he expected by working through his lunch hour. 

So he was exceptionally excited when he entered into the house, dropping his things on the kitchen counter as he pushed his way into the living room. He was prepared for a quiet greeting to his family – ever conscious of Cas’ persistent head pains – when he deflated as the sight of an empty living room. He frowned at that, as Steve’s car was still in the driveway, so he knew that everyone was still at home. It wasn’t until he noticed that Dean’s playpen had been moved that Sam guessed that they were probably upstairs. 

It was halfway up the stairs when Sam heard a telltale giggle that aerted him that one little boy was in a good mood. 

His lips were split into a wide grin as he approached their bedroom and spied Hannah in Dean’s relocated playpen on the floor, playing with a handful of toys. 

“Hello Princess,” he greeted the small girl with a smile and a ruffle to her hair, and Hannah responded with a cooed greeting of her own. 

Hannah was a precious little girl and everything, but there was only one real little person who Sam wanted to particularly see. 

He continued into the bathroom to spy a scene that both confused and delighted him. 

Steve was seated atop of the closed toilet lid. Chin on his fisted hand which was propped up on his knee. The man had noticed Sam’s presence and shot him a smile before looking back at the sight in the bathtub. 

Cas was in the large Jacuzzi tub, naked as the day he was born – Sam could only assume – and his bad arm was taped up around his neck to keep him from misusing it. The gauze which usually covered his bullet wound was off, exposing the angry pink, puckered incision where the doctors had worked to remove it. 

The strangest sight of all though was Dean, chubby little belly pink and warm, seated on Cas' thighs covered in what looked like chunky lumps of plain oatmeal. 

"Guys," Sam said as a way of greeting. "What's with the oatmeal?"

Steve sighed and adjusted his seat on the toilet lid, "I brought over Hannah's cat, Kitty, and Dean broke out in hives all over his back and thighs pretty bad. He was wiggling around like a worm to scratch his back. _Yes you were_!"

Sam laughed along with Dean's adorable giggles. Neither he nor Cas talked to Dean with the baby voice that Steve had used on the boy just now. It was weird to think of talking to him like that, but to watch Dean's face break out in that grin Sam had to admit that he might have to start using such a voice on their little boy from then on. 

"Has it helped?" He asked, deciding to finally put away his initial joy at _baby giggles!_ to put his daddy mask back on. 

"Yea," Cas spoke from the tub, "his skin doesn't look as red. And Dean doesn't seem so wiggly anymore."

Sam smiled at the sight of Cas finally in the tub. He loved his husband dearly, but it was becoming difficult to sleep next to a man who had a marinated sickly sweet hospital smell about him. He was able to witness the phenomenon that made their baby boy break out in giggles when Cas scooped up a handful of warm water and he rinsed it over Dean’s back before rubbing his hand through the lumps of oatmeal, re-smearing the substance over Dean’s skin. 

He took a cursory glance in the tub to see that the oatmeal was only on _Dean_ and that they weren’t at a risk for oatmeal clogged pipes. 

Dean squealed – softly for him – and wiggled as Cas tickled his sides. And Dean would have fallen off of Cas’ thigh had his husband not been so quick in capturing him. Bum arm or not, Cas was a darn good Papa to that boy.

"You guys want help up here?" Sam asked, though he realized that the two men were good on their own. 

"Nah," Steve said "I got this. Go downstairs and make yourself a plate of spaghetti. I left it in the pot on the stove."

Sam shot Steve an appreciative smile before he ducked out of the bathroom to do just what Steve suggested. 

He was especially grateful that Steve was such an incredible guy, because Sam just couldn't handle the idea of moving Cas around to get him washed up. It was bad enough to get him in and out of the sling every day. 

Call him a coward, but he just couldn’t fathom hurting Cas by showering him when he got home, so he passed the responsibility off to Steve. And the man had taken over with such understanding. His comment being that it reminded him of taking care of his wife after needing an emergency c-section to birth Hannah, so he understood the feeling. 

Sam was grateful for the stranger turned friend. 

He went down to the kitchen and got comfortable. He had already removed his shoes jacket and tie, so gone went his socks, and up went his sleeves. 

Sam balled up his socks and tossed them into the hall that led to the kitchen before walking up to the stove. He plucked the top off the pot and pulled out a chunk of noodles with his fingers, holding it above his head and dropping it cleanly into his mouth to avoid sauce on his dress shirt. 

He licked his fingers clean and wiped them off on his pants as he got himself a beer and a plate.  
After heaping a large mound onto the plate he covered it in a healthy dose of parmesan cheese before seating himself at the kitchen counter and shoved a forkful into his mouth. He hummed his pleasure at the simple dish, still warm from the pot, and sighed in relief now that their lives were returning to some semblance of normal. 

Sam smiled and stared at the sloppy noodles on his plate as if it was the source of his happiness, before taking another bite.

Sam was halfway through the mound of noodles before he heard steps coming from behind him, and the _thump-shuffle_ sound alerted him to the fact that it was Cas and not Steve.  
He watched as Cas stepped into the kitchen, Dean naked on his hip, and he sat the little boy's bare bottom on the counter, curling his good arm around Dean's back to keep him steady.

"Hey monkey," he greeted the boy from around a mouthful of noodles. "How're you feeling?"

Dean's skin was a slightly darker shade of pink than normal, and while that could have been due to the bath he just took Sam knew it was itchy irritation at coming into contact with cat dander. The boy also had red-rimmed eyes that Cas kept trying to keep him from rubbing at, and while Sam was worried at how the little boy's body responded to the allergy he had faith that Cas or Steve fed him a baby-Benadryl when they first noticed the hives. None of that, however, kept their baby boy from feeling totally out of commission.

Dean's response was to press his lips together and blow spit bubbles before popping his mouth open and smacking them together, eyeing down Sam's plate of food.

"Oh, I see. Trying to guilt yourself into spaghetti huh?" He speculated, even as he used his fork to chop up some noodles into Dean sized bites.

He held out his fork to the small boy, tines holding saucy noodles, and Dean hummed and cooed as he leaned forward, sucked them off, and chewed. 

Sam smiled at the little boy and turned his attention to Cas.

The man looked sleepy, but otherwise better than he had this morning, before Sam had left for work Cas had seemed pale, and had dark circles around his eyes from poor sleep. Fortunately though, the older man's concussion symptoms had already started to dissipate, even before he left the hospital, which meant that there was probably less than a month left with yucky feelings for Sam's blue-eyed angel, and then it would be just another two weeks with the boot before Cas was just stuck in the sling. True, it all sounded fairly bleak when listed out like that, but Sam liked to look to the positives. 

His attention was stolen from him by the sound of ceramic on granite as he looked down to spy Dean, tugging the plate closer in his attempt to hijack more pasta.

"Does Dean want more?" Sam asked as chubby fingers pushed into the remaining mound on the plate, grabbing large handfuls before he attempted to shove it all in his mouth. 

Sam and his husband could only look on and smile as their little boy turned insta-chipmunk cheeks, red sauce dripping down his chin onto his bare chest. 

"Least he’s naked," Cas chuckled as he disarmed their boy of his noodles and hooked a finger into his mouth to pull out the excess and keep the boy from choking. 

"Less clean up," Sam agreed, happily watching Dean's snarky whine at being treated like a baby who can't feed himself properly. 

Sam hurried up with the rest of his dinner, letting Dean take small offered bites, and by the time he was done Steve was coming into the kitchen with Hannah on one hip and the cat carrier in the other. 

"Hey guys, I'm going to roll out," he said as he set Hannah down to strap her into the car seat.  
"You leaving so soon?" Sam asked, getting up to deposit his plate in the empty sink. 

"Yeah, princess is getting tired, and Kitty is growing restless. And again, I'm really sorry again about that, I didn’t know that Dean was allergic."

Sam waved him off, "it's fine, we didn't know ourselves. We'll just have to take him to the doctor and get him checked out. We've been meaning to anyways, so you've given us the perfect push."

Steve smiled as he packed away the last of Hannah's things.

"Well, until tomorrow," he said, stepping forward to offer one arm hugs to each man, where he received two sincere thank yous before leaving. 

Sam sighed and leaned against the counter, arms crossed, "so now what?" He asked the room at large.

Cas chuckled and shot him a look that said everything, but the man clarified it as well. "I speak for myself, but I'm dead on my feet. And I think there's a certain little boy who would love snuggles and cuddles on the big bed with his daddies while watching some mindless television? Hmm?"

Cas said this all in a chipper baby voice directed at Sam's favorite toddler, and while Dean looked less than impressed with the patronizing tone - according to his eyes - his pink cheeked blush spoke otherwise.

Sam pushed away from the counter and scooped Dean up. Pressing great, big, slobbery kisses to Dean's neck and cheeks. "Does Dean want kisses and snuggles?" He asked, holding the boy above his head by his sides.

Dean was giggling, kicking his feet and holding onto Sam's thumbs like a lifeline. 

"Yu-yea!" He answered, probably just excited to have a lively Daddy, and not a tired one for the first time all week. Sam lowered the boy, nuzzling their noses together, before throwing Dean up in a quick toss. 

Dean thankfully held back any shrieking and only giggled - ever conscious of Cas' head – and continued to do so once Sam had him settled on his hip.

"Well you heard 'em," Sam said to Cas, "snuggles and TV it is."

Sam stepped over to the island where Cas was sitting and helped the man stand up. He pressed a quick kiss to the man's temple before the three of them went upstairs for some much needed family time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mock the name that I gave the cat - Kitty. It's the name of my sister's cat and I love that thing.


	23. Dean Visits the Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is literally no rhyme or reason as to why I post what I do or how chapters come about. I'll just get to a certain point and be like "yeah, that's good," and that's what happened here. I will be saying more stuff on it, just felt like sharing now.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, you guys have been awesome in accepting all of Dean's weird deviations from typical developments. I'm aware that he doesn't act like a true 7/8 month old, and I really sometimes wish I would have written him older, but I really wanted those teething chapters! 
> 
> Anyways, just wanted to say in here that I know Dean's development is all wonky and stuff, and you guys have been awesome in just going with it!

Something was off with the way dean's crib smelled. It typically had this powdery smell to it, like nice clean cucumbers, lingering remains from whenever one of his daddies cleaned his butt before ni-night time or naps.

Or like that one time Daddy made the powder go all explodey – but he had promised Daddy that he would never tell Papa about that.

But instead of the cucumber-laced crib smell he was getting hits of a thick floral nature, and while it didn't jive with what should have been he still felt instinctually safe. 

He was just waking up from his first proper nap since Papa's return from the hospital, seeing as Steve caught Dean nod off mid-step as he was crossing to get to Papa in the living room when the man thought he would get up from the couch and go to the bathroom _without him_.

He had face-planted pretty spectacularly and started crying immediately. Usually he would have looked up to check his daddies' faces to see if he was alright first, but stressed out, and sleepy Dean did no such thing. 

And Papa - who's concussion symptoms were finally improving – cuddled Dean up in one arm, heated up a bottle -Dean suspects Papa employed magic here in order to accomplish this feat, seeing as he was down one arm and that his one good arm was curled around his bottom – before he was carried upstairs and rocked to sleep with a bottle of milk to set him off.  
Drowsy, warm and full of formula he dropped off in no time at all.

Now he was snuggled in his crib and content o lay in his half-awakened state until Daddy or Papa determined that he should wake up. 

He laid still – after wiggling into a prime position – and rubbed his nose along the warm and soft, fabric? He thinks its fabric, that's just under his nose. He reaches forward, spreading his arms above his head and one arm curls naturally around something, he thinks it's his turtle, while the other tangles itself in this super soft stuff that kind of feels like hair. 

He's content though, so he just goes with it, sucking steadily on his pacifier and twirling whatever it is that his little fingers are stuck in.

It isn't until something starts pushing its way through his hair in repetitive, soothing motions that Dean thinks that he isn't in his crib at all, isn't even on the floor of his playpen. He cracks open an eye and it takes a moment for him to recognize the soft suntanned skin of a collarbone before he puts two and two together and he sits up with amazing speed because _Grandma!_

"Hey there honey, you enjoy your snooze?"

Dean's all smiles now. Grandma is the best, Dean got to know her and Grandpa pretty well while Papa was in the hospital and Daddy had to take care of him. Mostly he learned that Grandma gave the best hugs, was always warm and baked the best cookies, and that Grandpa was a gruff old guy who, besides cars and whiskey, loved Dean and to have the hairs of his beard played with. 

Dean nods happily at her question because he loves talking with Grandma, she always talks to Dean. 

"Have you been taking good care of your Papa Sweet Potato?"

"Yea," he answers around his pacifier. Cause it's important that she knows he's been doing a good job. 

"And what have you been doing Mister?"

Dean goes off on a long tangent, babbling every important detail of what he's done to keep Papa safe. He includes his story of talking Papa out of taking his pain pill twice, how he reminds him to each lunch, that he keeps an eye on him when he goes to the bathroom.

And during their talk he's vaguely aware of her standing up and carrying him somewhere, but he's too busy convincing Grandma that he's being the best Sweet Potato his Grandma has ever seen to pay it much attention. 

She's all ears too, which is awesome, and he doesn't even mind it when she takes off his Velcro shoes and sets him down – keeping her hand at the side of his head to keep his attention – before she plucks him back up. 

He's just running out of things to say as he's rounding up on his opinion of how Steve ranks on Dean's scale of caregivers when he notices that the two of them aren't alone and that they aren't even at home. 

It totally wrecks his train of thought when he spies an examination room.

"And even though Hannah can be annoying..."he cuts off as he notices an examination table and feels his body lock up tight.

They're in a fucking doctor's office? 

Did Grandma even care about his stories? 

He turns already wet eyes up at the woman and starts in with his hitched breathing. 

"No, no. No tears sweetheart," she says with a comforting squeeze, "you haven't finished telling your stories to grandma yet."

She looks so interested, and he doesn't want to make Grandma upset, so he continues his tale in a watery voice.

He takes his time looking around the room and notices that it's just the two of them now. Had anyone come with? Grandma is awesome and everything, but he was a little upset that neither of his daddies were in attendance. 

"Ah?" He asks suddenly. 

And if it hadn't been for all of the practice that the woman had in answering that question when Papa had been in the hospital she probably wouldn't have caught it.

"Fraid not sweetie."

Well that was un-fucking-acceptable. 

"Dah?" He croaked.

"Yes. Daddy's here. He ran off to use the bathroom real quick. He'll be back soon dear, I promise."

Daddy was here? Okay, that was good and everything, but the man would show up before the doctor, right?

Dean had totally lost his steam for telling stories to Grandma, and the woman had him all turned around on her lap and she was rubbing his ankles with her thumbs.  
He pointed at what she was doing and she responded with a "yep, those are your feets, sweets."

And it caused him to giggle. Silly Grandma with her rhyming body labeling.

He pointed to his knee to test his theory and the woman came back with "is that your knee, bumblebee?"

And hell, he was only okay if it was _this_ woman using a baby voice on him. 

Just as he was about to point at his tummy to see what Grandma's response would be – he suspected that it would rhyme with _mummy_ – the door opened and his floppy haired Daddy entered the room.

"Dada!" He chirruped, excited to see the man. 

"Hey monkey, did you wake up from your nap?"He asked as he scooped Dean up and sat on the examination table with Dean on his lap. 

Dean pointed over at Grandma in the extra chair, just in case Daddy didn't realize that the woman was there. 

"Yeah, grandma's here too, huh?"

Dean nodded and turned to busy himself with toying with Daddy's tie. The fact that the man was still dressed up, sleeves unrolled and tie still on, Dean guessed that Daddy had taken off work to come see him at the doctor, which made him happy. At least he was going to have two people there to get him through all of this. 

"How was Cas?" Daddy asked Grandma as he rubbed his large, paw-like hand over Dean's back. It was always so soothing, and he often had to fight the urge to arch his back like a cat. 

"He was feeling a little dizzy, but I think that's because he had convinced your nanny that letting him push around the vacuum cleaner on his own was a good idea."

Dean looked up in time to see Daddy roll his eyes. 

"That sounds about right," he replied, fixing Dean's shirt where it had ridden up. "How was Dean on the way here?"

"He was asleep when I picked him up, asleep when I put him in the car, and asleep when we got to the waiting room." She smiled. "He was a real angel, sweetheart."

Daddy hummed an affirmative and leaned over to kiss the top of Dean's head. And when Daddy sat back Dean reached up and ran his fingers over the stubble that littered his Daddy's jaw.

"You a good boy for Grandma?"

"Yea."

Of course he was. He's Dean, he knows how to behave himself for Grandma. 

However, Dean was starting to get kind of bored on Daddy's lap, but no matter how much he wiggled the man wouldn't put him down. Dean pouted at that and smacked his heels down on Daddy's legs.

"Dean, no," Daddy said holding his ankles and scolding him for hitting. 

Dean pouted some more. He was getting _bored_ and Daddy wasn't letting him do anything. 

He felt his temper going up a notch at Daddy keeping him from doing anything fun. Usually Dean was always pretty even tempered, but lately he'd been tired and felt a little underappreciated for all of the work that he'd put in with Papa. 

That and he was grumpy at Daddy scolding him in front of Grandma, how _dare_ he make her think Grandma's Sweet Potato Pie was nothing more than a surly, moody little baby.

He threw up a frown at the man that could rival the devil. 

"You'd best not be giving Daddy attitude," he was scolded further. 

Dean forcefully turned away from his Daddy, and gave Grandma an unimpressed frown.

"Is Daddy dealing with a monster right now?"

For a response Dean took out his pacifier and threw it to the ground with a grunt. After staring at it longingly for a moment he let out a cry. 

Let Daddy interpret that as he will. 

Dean was hoping that someone would retrieve the plastic device for him, and when Grandma bent forward in her chair to pick it up Dean was certain that he was going to get what he wanted. But when she sat back up, and recrossed her legs and simply held his pacifier in her lap he was stunned. 

"Uh?"

"Sorry sweetie, but Grandma doesn't give in to cranky babies."

What!

Now Dean was mad, not only was he in a bad mood, but Grandma was angry with him as well?

It was all stupid Daddy's fault.

Dean hadn’t even realized that he was crying until the pad of Daddy's thumb slid across his cheeks.

And while he could appreciate the man looking out for him Dean wasn't about to forgive the man – though he couldn't say why he was mad in the first place.

It was then – pouting with wet, red eyes, and the center of double-hate – that Dean's doctor walked in.

"Afternoon folks," he got out before spying Dean's sullen face. "Oh no, what's wrong here, Bud? Did mean ole Dr. Patrick keep you waiting too long?" The man asked bending over slightly to look Dean in the eye.

He was older, mid-fifties, grey-brown hair with a bit of a beer gut. Dean supposed that the Dr. took care of himself at one point – jogging, perhaps? – before old age hit. He had clear, honest eyes, a visible wedding ring, and screamed of three kids and a mini-van full of grandchildren. 

He ranked at about a 1.4 on the 'Dean Winchester scale of threats'. 

"Nah," Daddy went on to answer the man's question. "We've only been here roughly ten minutes."

Has it really only been that long?

May as well have been an hour with how bored Dean was feeling. 

"Dean's just a little cranky; life has been kind of stressful at home."

The doctor 'hmmed' as he took a seat and started looking through Dean's file, or at least what he had assumed was his file.

They all sat quietly as Sam explained briefly the goings-on at home.

"This is to be expected then,” the doctor said insightfully, “babies don't typically like a deviation from routine. So he might continue to show outbursts of different moods until things settle.”

Dean felt Daddy nod, and his big warm hand came up to rub his back. 

"Well Dean, it looks like you only weigh fifteen pounds!" the doctor said, giving Dean a look that made him feel like he was guilty for some reason. 

"Really?" Daddy asked, "cause he was only fourteen when we first adopted him, and that was three months ago."

The doctor shrugged and glanced through some more of the paperwork, likely the medical history that Daddy had filled out with Dean's help.

They had spent an hour last week where Daddy would ask a yes or no question _"Is there any history of heart disease in your family?"_

And Dean would either nod or shake his head before being rewarded with a small spoon of ice cream.

He wasn't sure how Daddy was going to pass off knowing all of the information, but he wasn't worried. Daddy's pretty smart.

"It could just be his diet. He might need more healthy fats and proteins to build himself up, especially for the winter. But it could also be lingering effects from his bought of pneumonia earlier this summer."

Dean saw Grandma nodding her head, and imagined that Daddy was doing so as well.

"Any primary concerns of yours before I start the exam?"

Daddy started to say no just as Grandma piped up and started talking.

"Dean seems very advanced for his age," she started saying – and oh joy – was she bringing that stuff up again? No gold stars for you today Grandma. 

"Is there any way for you to test his intelligence or something?"

The doctor looked like he was pondering this possibility, but Daddy's arms wrapped themselves nice and tight around Dean, so he knew he was safe.

"Mom, smart or not I don't care. Dean is a perfect little boy and I'm grateful for the fact that he understands whatever Cassie and I say, but I've asked you before to drop it, so would you please -."

"Yes, alright. Grandma just wanted to know all about her baby's baby, is all."

Dean could see the guilt tactic in action from a mile away, but unfortunately this was Dean at the focus of concern, and Daddy was far more interested in keeping him safe than he was in pleasing Grandma.

"It could be that he understands certain cue words, and the tone that you apply to them, that could explain his level of understanding. Some babes just understand languages quick. If that's the case you can always try getting him started on a second language. Spanish perhaps?"

Dean looked up and saw Daddy nodding, cool. Spanish meant he could do more than order a beer if ever he was south of the border.

_Una cerveza, por favor._

"But otherwise, to answer your question, no. I’m unqualified for that test. You'd have to visit a child psychologist for that."

Grandma nodded, and Dean seriously hoped that the baby genius talk would come to an end. 

Dr. Patrick rolled closer to Daddy's knees on his little stool, and it took Dean a second to realize that the man was going to focus in on _him_ now before he started feeling wiggly.

"Are you ready for your checkup Dean?"

Dean adamantly shook his head no, and the man chuckled. 

"He does have a pretty high level of understanding, huh?"

Dean didn’t have a response to that, so the man just continued.

“You want to go ahead and removed his shirt?” he said to Daddy.

Daddy worked on removing the long bodied shirt from him, but Dean was still feeling kind of sour, so he didn’t make it easy on the guy, and kept his arms rigid at his sides so that Daddy had to maneuver his arms around at the risk of harming him should he just tug Dean’s shirt off like he normally would.

Dean’s plans included making sure that that shirt didn’t go back on.

“Alright, let’s check your heart and lungs Dean,” Dr. Patrick announced as he approached with a scary looking metal object with tubes.

He kicked out a little and whined, trying to back up closer to Daddy’s chest – he’d forgive the man if he would protect him from the _thing_ that the man was trying to touch him with.

But Daddy just moved him around on his lap, so he was sitting sideways. Daddy’s big hand rubbed at his back a little bit to calm him down. But Dean was still eying the equipment down like it was going to attack him.

“You’re okay baby boy,” his Daddy was saying to him. “Don’t you remember when Papa took you to the hospital and someone listened inside your tummy and chest?”

Yeah, Dean thought, but he had been delusional because of his fever. Geez, didn’t Daddy know better?

Dean threw up a pair of said eyes up at the floppy haired man, hoping that it would win him an escape from the room, but there was no such luck. 

“Sorry baby boy, but no getting out of this one. Can you show Grandma what a big boy you can be?”

Low blow, Daddy. Low blow.

Dean looked back up at the doctor and felt tears appear in his eyes.

He was scared, he wasn’t getting his way, he was upset with Daddy, _and_ he wasn’t feeling the love and affection he was usually shown so freely.

He felt a few warm drops run down his cheeks as the cold metal pressed over his heart.

“This is just a rough experience all around, huh?” Dr. Patrick observed as he watched Dean’s tears spilling over quietly. “I promise that I’m not all that bad,” the man said as he moved the thing around on his chest.

Dean felt his lower lip pushing out into a pitiful pout and he turned his face up to Daddy, but the man’s heart must have frozen over, because he was getting nowhere with the man.

His breathing became hitched as he worked himself up to start his irrational and loud crying. Dean didn’t even mean to, but lately whenever he got himself all worked up there was no other alternative for him. He would have to cry himself out before he felt any smidgen of relief whenever he got too upset, angry or scared. 

Guess that was all part of being a baby. Emotional management wasn’t developed yet.

Dean started his whimpered crying, his face getting all screwed up and his eyes crinkling in the corners as he stopped trying to hold everything back and just started crying. 

He wanted this to be _over_. He wanted Daddy to scoop him into one of his super awesome hugs and take him away from the room. Or he wanted Grandma to kick Dr. Patrick’s ass for scaring him, despite the low rating he had given the guy as far as threats went. 

Unfortunately for him he didn’t get any of that. All he got was Daddy holding him steady on his lap, one big hand rubbing his back in what was usually soothing circles as he continued with his hitched crying.

He heard Daddy talking to him, telling him he was brave and that everything was okay. But it _wasn’t_ because no one was _listening_ to him!

Dean felt Dr. Patrick prodding his tummy with his fingers, feeling around for God knows what, before he moved up to feel around his neck. Dean started to get combative with the doctor, and smacked at the guy’s hands. Tugging on his shirt sleeves and trying to pull them away, but nothing worked. 

Dean continued to be assaulted and ignored until the doctor’s fingers pulled away and Daddy finally, _finally_ scooped him up for a hug. He cried in the crook of Daddy’s neck and shoulder, and was sure to smear his runny nose and tears on Daddy’s nice shirt for good measure. 

*****

Sam kind of felt like a jackass. 

He had assumed that Dean’s doctor appointment would go off smoothly. Why? Because he’s an idiot, that’s why.

It had been scheduled the week after Dean’s run in with Kitty, and while they weren’t too preoccupied with Dean’s allergy – it seemed to be more ‘itchy skin’ and less ‘throat swelling’ – they still hadn’t gone in for a full on check up since Dean had been admitted to the hospital prior to his adoption. 

Sam figured that during his lunch hour would be best, he could take an extended lunch and do the doctor thing with his baby, and he employed his mom to bring Dean to the doctor’s office so that Cas wouldn’t have to leave the house. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Cas there or anything, he actually would have preferred having the man with, but they had learned that the rumbling of a car engine was a sure fire way to give the man an instant headache. They would wait a few more weeks before trying to put Cas in a car. 

So it was just him and his Mom at the doctor with Dean. 

And Sam was convinced it would be enough. Dean had become so completely _enamored_ with his Grandma since he had to stay with them for so long. So he figured that Grandma being at the doctors with them would be the perfect distraction.

Looks like Sam was wrong.

Dean’s still crying. 

It’s going on ten minutes now – and Sam feels like a _jackass_. 

His little boy has hunkered down in his arms, his breathing is all stuttered and shaky, a sign that he’s partaking in that heavy, long-lasting crying that usually accompanies someone when they’ve lived through an extraordinarily traumatic experience.

Sam forgot to take into account that their little boy was finally _behaving_ like a little boy. 

He keeps up his soothing touches. Running his hand through Dean’s soft hair, pressing kisses to his head, rubbing his back. 

But Dean’s just still crying. 

They’re talking now. Him and the doctor, going through questions to get to know Dean better. “What was teething like.” “Any residual signs of pain?” “What is his appetite like?” “Does he throw up any certain foods?” “How often are his bowel movements?” “What are they like?”

Sam’s actually kind of happy that Dean was preoccupied with crying, as some of the questions were far too intimate and embarrassing to listen to if they’re being asked about you. Hell, Sam feels like an idiot when he looks to his Mom and gets a second opinion on the coloring of Dean’s morning poop. But she’s changed his diaper, she should know.

They’re just coming to the end of Dr. Patrick’s questions when Dean reaches up with a little fist and starts rubbing his eyes with the backs of his fingers, it’s that tired little kid move where they drag their fingers across their face. It’s too cute.

Sam turns Dean on his lap, while he answers the doctor’s question of “Does he show any signs of lactose intolerance?” He doesn’t draw attention to the end of Dean’s meltdown, as he knows it would just make the little boy more upset, he does however stick out his hand towards his Mom. 

She passes over the pacifier and Sam sucks it between his lips, cleaning it off nicely before popping it in Dean’s mouth.

The doctor gives him a funny look while doing that.

“I know it’s not very hygienic -,”

“Eh,” the man says waving Sam off with his hand and rolling his eyes, “you’re fine. He’s going to stick worse things in his own mouth.”

Sam smiles and watches as the doctor stands and starts pulling things out of the little cabinet in the corner where the sink is. 

He sees a flash of the plastic cover for a syringe and Sam immediately turns and lies down on the examination table with his head propped up on the pillow so he can see. Dean’s on his chest now, and while the little guy looks confused he also seems appreciative. He always loves lying on Daddy’s chest. 

“What does Dean think about getting more naked time? Huh?” Sam asks tugging at the little boys diaper straps. 

Dean sits up a little on his arms, “uh?”

And Sam has to keep from laughing, because he _knows_ what Dean is saying. He _knows_ what that question means. It means that their little exhibitionist, their little naked daredevil, is shy at being nude in front of the doctor.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Sam says as he slips the diaper from between Dean’s legs. 

The response from Dean is precious, his little boy burns pink so quickly, a furious little blush covering his body – all the way down to his now exposed cheeks – and he drops his head to Sam’s chest, gripping fistfuls of Sam’s shirt to hide his face in.

And Sam does laugh at that. A little bit.

“Are you shy Monkey?”

“Noh.”

“You’ll be okay,” Sam says as the doctor approaches quietly. 

There’s a nod of the head, a connection of eyes. Signs are exchanged. Looks are given. Their plan is laid out, and everyone has their job. 

The doctor will give Dean his round of immunizations in two quick steps. And alcohol swab and a prick. 

Sam will hold Dean down. A hand on his upper back and his forearm across the boys thighs – keeping his little tush exposed for the shot.

And Mary hovered off to the side – her phone out and recording for her to pull stills from for pictures. 

The doctor holds up three fingers, and slowly drops them. When the last one goes down Sam holds Dean tight, which makes the little boy freeze up. Dr. Patrick approaches with the alcohol swab. Cleaning off a spot before sticking the needle in. A blip goes off as Mary starts recording.

It takes less than a minute.

But Dean starts screaming instantly.

If Sam thought he felt like a jackass before he now feels worse. He feels like just from the nature of Dean’s screaming that a file has magically opened up on the desk of some DCFS representative and that his right to be a father will be revoked.

Even as Dean turns up, with a face full of betrayal, and throws his arms out wanting a cuddle Sam thinks to himself; worst. Father. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys and your comments, but please don't fill up my inbox with all of the ways I got the doctor's visit in this chapter wrong. I study English. Not medicine. 
> 
> If I got something wrong then cut me some slack, my knowledge comes from bad television and WebMD articles that tell me I'm going to die. 
> 
> So just an fyi, all comments regarding my 'mistakes' will be ignored. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Sorry to get all snippy, I promise we can all still be besties and drink coffee together sometime in RL)
> 
> :)


	24. Grumpy Baby Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> I know this took me a while to post, and I apologize for it being so short, but my parents took a week off work, and my mom is like a cat in that she simultaneously wants all of my attention and ignores me. Didn't leave a lot of free time for writing. 
> 
> Also, I've been having some weird medical problems lately :( I have a rare bone marrow disease and we're thinking it's acting up and causing some problems. We should be getting some tests back soon to see whats up, but in the mean-time I'm stuck in limbo. (It's nothing serious, I promise. I just figured I would share for all the curious peeps out there)
> 
> Also, Also. I've been having a lot of fun with Baby!Dean in this story, and I started a new one with Baby!Sammy in my new story called "What's in a Wish". I have two chapters posted and it's a slow-burn Destiel fic as well. So if you find CB isn't enough for you, then you can try that.
> 
> Also, Also, Also. I encourage everyone to check out my other fic "Home is Relative" for those of ya'll who are fans of Wincest, Megstiel, High School AU's and Hurt!Dean, I think you'll enjoy it!
> 
>  
> 
> Peace!

It took Cas all of five seconds to catch onto Dean's bad mood when Mary dropped him off after his doctor’s appointment. Not only was his little face scrunched in a grouchy pout, but his attitude was so incredibly sour. 

He was shrieking constantly. Upset that he wasn't getting what he wanted – though what he wanted was a total mystery to everyone – and whenever he was handed something that he _did_ want he'd chuck it across the room.

He had quite the arm for a little guy.

However, it wasn't like Cas had much of a chance to take care of Dean when he got back, as Steve's brood of children had descended upon the household.

During Dean's visit Cas had taken a nap and woke up to a full house. Steve claimed that Cas had given him the okay, and while he might have it was also possible that Steve brought his kids over because it was more difficult for him to turn away a child's attempt at cleaning the house and making him lunch.

It also meant that when Dean returned Cas didn't get the opportunity to hold his baby boy. 

Not that he was all that keen to hold the whiny little boy when even halfway across the house his shrieky "NO's!" Were too much.

He was drinking a glass of tea with an aspirin crushed up in it, hiding in the rarely used home office so he could pair socks when he suddenly heard the shrieks and whines cut off.

Curious, he placed his drink back on the desk and stood to peek out the door. There was a distinct lack of sounds in the house, which spoke to something, as it had been quite loud, well, not _loud_ loud, Cas still had migraines to deal with, but louder than it had been for a few days. 

Steve had brought his three older children over in addition to Hannah, which meant that along with Steve and Cas, they had fourteen year old Emily, eight year old twins Jackson and Brittany, eleven month old Hannah, and surly, eight month old Dean at the house.

Cas had enjoyed the sounds of a full house – it warmed his heart, hearing the echoing sounds of kids layered over one another – but he had to admit that he preferred just the soft coos of his own _singular_ baby boy much better.

He wondered if that said anything about the chances of Dean having a brother or a sister someday.

Cas stepped out of the office and wobbled down the hall. He couldn't exactly _sneak_ anywhere, what with his boot thudding and crinkling every other step, but he could move kind of quietly if he worked at it.

The living room was empty, save for Steve, who had his feet propped up on the coffee table and was flipping through one of Sam's dog-eared parenting books.

"You done hiding the fact that you're working on laundry?" The man asked without looking up, flipping his page.

"Where'd they go?" 

Steve gestured to the sliding glass door with his head, and Cas moved closer to see the kids playing out in the backyard. 

Jackson and Brittany were in the beach kit with Hannah, and Emily was watching on as she pushed Dean in a swing that Cas hadn't seen before.

It would have been hard to tell for someone unfamiliar with the boy, but Cas could tell that Dean was stuck somewhere between lingering frustration and anger, and excitement over the novelty associated with being pushed on a swing.

Basically Dean's face looked like it did right before he had to poop. 

Cas chuckled a bit at the look on his sour boy's face before turning back to Steve on the couch. 

"Where did the swing come from?"

"I bought it the other day, I figured it was late six month present for Dean," Steve shrugged and glanced over at the window. "He still look like he's gotta fart?"

"Unfortunately," Cas admitted.

He sat down and Steve automatically placed a pillow on the coffee table for him to put his foot on. 

"Did Mary say why he came back so upset?"

Steve hummed thoughtfully as he scanned the page he was on. "She mentioned a lot of tears and fussing when it came time for his shot."

Cas frowned. He had assumed Dean wouldn't take the doctor's visit very well, but he didn't think the little guy would still be so upset about it. But perhaps that was the difference between Dean and your typical infant. Any other little guy would be flipping through emotions like a rolodex, and any lingering upset over the doctor's appointment would have been washed away the minute he was placed in that swing. But Dean held onto his strong emotions just like any adult.

He was curious how his son would act once Daddy was back home. It would be entertaining to see Dean put Daddy in the dog house.

"Are you going to try finishing those socks?"

Steve's question startles Cas, who didn't realize that his head had lolled to the back of the couch and that he had dozed off for a minute. 

"Yeah, just n'a few minutes," Cas is determined. He's going to do the laundry, just watch him.

Cas wakes up some time later.

There is a blanket thrown over him and a pillow shoved under his neck to keep it from cramping up. The blinds are drawn over the sliding glass doors and the laundry basket of socks that he left in the office is on the floor next to the couch. Socks messily paired together.

Steve probably let the kids do them.

Cas shifts around on the couch and pulls the blanket down with his good arm. He smells something good coming from the kitchen. Steve had put something together in the crock pot earlier, but he can’t remember what it was. 

He takes a minute to finish waking up, going through his mental exercise of listing out his name, birthday, Sam's name and birthday, Dean's name and birthday. He found that doing this helped bring his mind back online quicker and that his confusion was kept to a minimum when he had a few minutes to think. 

It's whenever he didn't get a chance to do it after waking up that he mixed up Dean's name. 

He heard a few murmurs coming from the kitchen and recognized Sam's voice, despite him purposefully talking quietly. The lack of response to Sam's quiet words let him in on the fact that he was talking to Dean. 

Cas tilts his head back and closes his eyes so he can better focus on his husband's quiet words, he's lucky that Sam's deep voice carries no matter how softly he talks.

"Does Dean want an orange slice while Daddy fixes supper?"

He's unable to hear Dean's response. 

"No?" Sam likely parrots what their little boy had uttered. "Is Dean still mad at Daddy?"

Another pause.

"Well you're certainly acting like it."

Cas hears something clatter and guesses Dean threw something. 

"Dean Michael!"

Sam sounds rightfully upset. 

When he hears muffled crying he decides to stand up from the couch, balances himself, and shuffles into the kitchen. He walks in on a scene that makes him flashback to the horrible week of teething that Cas has been slowly working to forget.

The kitchen isn't unkempt like it had been that week, but the surly little boy in the high chair is a familiar sight.

Sam is bent over and scooping up these little cheddar poofy things that Steve had introduced them to. They're meant for little ones with new teeth. It's supposed to teach them to each small bites and encourages them to chew, but the poofs dissolve easily in the wet heat found in a person's mouth, so they don't have to worry about choking. Not that Dean is notorious for choking. They've learned that he has too much respect for food to do that.

Dean seemed to be a big fan of the little cheddary balls though, and he especially liked that his daddies trusted him enough to feed himself when they dumped a handful on his tray.

When Cas shuffled a little closer glassy green eyes tilt up to look at him. Dean's crying, and little drops of tears cling to his eyelashes.

"Is Papa's little cherry pie not being good for Daddy?" He asks wiping away the boy’s tears.

"Noh." 

Sam chuckles at Dean's response.

"No? So Dean's being a good boy?" 

"Yeah."

Sam doesn't even look like he can stay mad, and Cas totally understands. Dean is way too cute to stay mad at, even when he _is_ being a little monster.

"Ah?" He demands, arms up. 

Cas bends over and scoops Dean up, he has him settled into his spot, tucked into his sling before he even thinks about it being a bad idea.

He's just settling Dean's little feet into the waistband of his sweats when Sam stands up, poofs cupped in his massive hand. 

"Cas!"

Oops.

"Is Dean in your sling?"

He looks down to his little boy who is, snuggled and cozy, but who is also blatantly tucked into his sling.

"Yes."

"Well get him out, the last thing you need right now is something to aggravate your injuries."

Cas shakes his head, "he's fine Sammy."

"He's not the one I'm worried about Cassie."

Cas sits down at the bar and gestures Sam over, "go ahead and take him then."

Sam tosses the dirty poofs out and crosses the kitchen to pluck Dean out.

Their little boy is less than impressed with his younger father's attempts and Dean starts shrieking like he's being hit by his Daddy instead of being lifted by the soft hands that move him so gently.

Sam looks upset with Dean's reaction and once he's slipped free – Cas grimacing at the action, it did kind of hurt – he places him in the care of Cas' good arm.

Dean snuggles his face to whatever parts of his Papa's chest he can reach and glares at his Daddy.

"Someone is clearly unimpressed with you," Cas says to his husband around a smile.

"Yeah? Well someone is going to bed early tonight if he keeps up the attitude."

Dean turns his face into Cas' chest and grumbles something in his sour little coos.

"So what's for dinner?" Cas asks, in order to change topics. 

"Fajitas."

"Mmm. That's what Steve made?"

"Emily actually," Sam corrected as he moved back to where he had been previously. 

He was chopping up an avocado to make some guacamole. 

"Emily?" 

"Yeah."

"So you met Steve's clan?" Cas asks as he pulls over Dean's container of poofs.

"Yeah."

They're silent as Cas watches between Sam's chopping and Dean's chewing. A few moments pass before he asks, "what did you think of it?"

Sam's eyes come up to clarify Cas' question, and he can tell Sam understands him perfectly. 

_"What did you think of having more than one kid in the house?"_

It's something that they've discussed before. The possibility of having more than one kid in the house. Sam has always said he wanted a large family; Cas has always just content with anything.

Dean coming along had changed things obviously, but had he changed their plans to be a multiple child household?

"I guess I'm content right now."

And Cas nodded. Right now the idea of more than one kid seemed excessive, but at the same time he had to remind himself that Dean was still in diapers. There was still plenty of time to decide whether or not Dean would be an only child. 

Cas looks down to where Dean sits soundly in his lap, and he runs his hand through the boys hair, pulling the golden locks away from his face.

"I agree.”

"We should schedule munchkin for a haircut." He says suddenly.

"Nuh," Dean retorts around a mouth of food.

"Yeah, Dean doesn't want no stinkin haircut!" Sam agrees enthusiastically.

Cas rolls his eyes. If Sam had his choice their son would resemble Rapunzel.

"Noh."

"Yeah, no haircut."

"Noh."

"Oh, does Dean want a haircut?" Sam sounds upset.

"Yeah."

"What was the 'no' for then," Sam asks laying down his knife.

Dean smacks his lips together and blows bubbles as a response.

"Is it cause Papa called you munchkin?" 

"Yeah."

Cas chuckles. "I'm sorry sweetheart."

He decides to apologize by snagging a thin piece of chicken from the pan of fajita innards and holds the piece out for Dean to chew on. 

Dean starts humming in his little way that makes him sound like a purring kitten, and Cas talks to Sam about unimportant day-to-day work things. 

Sam keeps smiling at Dean as he puts their plates together and lays them out. 

Cas puts Dean back in his highchair when it comes time to eat – he needs full use of his one arm in order to eat this particular meal.

Sam has given Dean a small plastic plate with small bits of chicken and cheese, but Dean refuses to touch it until Cas holds a few pieces out to him. 

"Wow, he is mad at you," Cas comments.

"Yeah."

"Was the doctor so bad?"

"No," Sam sighs, "he was just upset with me when he got his shot." 

Sam reaches out and cards his fingers through Dean's hair. "My poor monkey."

Dean blows a raspberry around a piece of chicken.

Both men laugh.

"Is Dean still angry with Daddy?"

"Yeah."

"Well I'm sorry monkey," Sam sounds so sincere in his apology, taking the little boy must have really shaken him up.

"He'll get over it come bed time when he wants Daddy for a cuddle," Cas says, knowing that he's right.

That's a new development for Dean, a demand that he get individual snuggles from _both_ his daddies before bed time.

"Well we'll find out soon enough. I wasn’t joking about you-know-who going to bed early."

Cas just smiles and they finish their meal.

Afterward, when everything is all cleaned up, they cuddle on the couch for an hour before Sam deems it’s time for all monkeys to go to bed. 

Dean looks unimpressed, but it doesn't escape Cas' notice that when Sam is changing his diaper before they put on the boys pajamas that Dean wiggles his rear end until Sam kisses the tiny spot where Dean was stuck with a needle.

Dean kisses both his daddies on the lips during snuggle time, and Cas takes that to mean that Sam has been forgiven.


	25. Dean and Cas - The Rockstars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> To keep things short! Good news/Bad news. 
> 
> Good news; My tests came back negative
> 
> Bad news; We still don't know what's wrong :(
> 
> I would tell you all about it if you weren't trying to get to the new update, so if you're curious about my medical things feel free to ask! I find it all very interesting myself!
> 
> I was supposed to update Home is Relative first, but I probably shouldn't have created such challenging characters for that story.
> 
> Oops.
> 
> I apologize for any and all errors, I've been writing with my phone lately....
> 
> Read. Enjoy. Review!

It had been a week since he had been to the doctor, and in that time a few things had changed. Papa was doing much better in the head. He still suffered from headaches and didn't like bright rooms – which is why he and Papa often spent their days all snuggly in a nest of blankets in Papa and Daddy's bed – but he didn't seem all that forgetful anymore, and Dean was confident enough with the man's abilities to take his medication on his own. 

Dean thinks that Daddy bought some different things for Papa to take though, cause Papa's pills no longer make him all loopy. This is a good thing, as it means Dean is no longer subjected to Steve's well meaning but _flawed_ methods of child-care. It also means Hannah is no longer around to spoil Dean's mood. 

It's also been a month since Papa's run-in with John, and while his curiosity still gets to him, and asks what happened to his biological father, he is content with the fact that Daddy and Papa have taken care of it. 

After all, what business does an eight month old have in such affairs? 

No. Dean has much more important tasks at hand. Tasks that include entertaining his Papa who is happily folding laundry on the coffee table in the living room with his one good arm. 

With Hannah gone from the house and Papa's head feeling better Daddy was kind enough to return the batteries to Dean's pint-sized piano in his playpen. 

And it turns out Dean was a god-dammed rock star.

"Is Dean gonna play me another song?" Papa asks as he shakes out one of Daddy's work shirts.

"Yeah," Dean answers, picking himself up from the floor. He had sat down and taken a short break, sucking down the chocolate 'milk' Papa had put in his bottle for him. 

Papa was always asking him to play songs and sing for him. Apparently Dean was a really good musician, and if Papa said so then it must be true. 

He pulled himself up and smacked at the keys.

_what to play. What to play...._

He looked over to Papa for inspiration and announced his song choice. He knew Papa was just hearing a jumble of syllables when he said "this is 'Another one Bites the Dust', by Queen," but Papa nodded his head and said "good choice sweetheart," so he figured Papa understood him fine. 

Dean started smacking keys and babbling, "aand another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust!"

He couldn't help himself from shaking his diaper clad bottom, he was a wriggly worm, he could admit to that. But singing and playing went along with dancing, and swinging his hips was a hell of a lot of fun. 

He heard Papa's chuckle from behind him and that encouraged him to continue. Dean kept singing and dancing until he had to pee, and even after he had wet his diaper he kept going. 

Papa would toss out a request every once in a while, he made the mistake of asking for a Nickelback song once, and Papa had to sing Cherry Pie to him twice in the "Dean Version" before he would forgive the man. 

He was in the middle of his rendition of Renegade when he felt Papa's finger push up the leg of his diaper. 

"Alright, concert's on hold on account of a wet diaper," he announces.

Dean ignores him for the moment and keeps playing. 

When Papa comes back into the playpen and sits behind him, Dean noticed, but he's too busy mimicking some guitar riffs via spit bubbles to pay the man much attention. 

"C'mon my little rock star, let's get you changed so Papa can put you down for a nap."

Nap schnap. Dean wants to keep playing. 

He's all set to keep going when Papa snags the back of his onesie and gives it a tug. It doesn't take much for Dean to fall back onto his wet bottom and he realizes he's fallen into the V of Papa's legs. 

He tilts his head up all the way and spies his older fathers face looking bemused at him.

"Dean sure likes his music, huh?" 

"Yeah," Dean replies as Papa spins him around by grabbing his ankles and pivoting Dean on his butt. 

"Papa will change you right here, sweetheart. And then how about we go upstairs for a bottle before a nap?"

Papa says all this while laying him down, and Dean blows spit bubbles in response, even as he accepts the weird, rubber ball from Papa that only ever shows up during a diaper change. It’s never occurred to Dean to think of the toy as a distraction, but if he were with it a little more he'd realize that his injured Papa is pulling out all of the stops to make wrestling a wriggly Dean into his diaper an easier feat.

All Dean cared about was trying to figure out how to work the hard rubber balls out of the rubbery cage that they've been trapped in. 

But Dean was still a little impressed with Papa's skills. Even with Dean naturally curling his legs up like a rolly polly bug Papa had the remove a soiled diaper, wipe him clean, smear cream over his but to take care of the smidgen of diaper rash that popped up – nothing crazy, just a natural reaction to sleeping with a wet bottom – and strap Dean back into a fresh one.

But now that Papa has said something about a nap Dean is fucking tired. Papa has him back on a regular napping schedule, which is nice. As the near month of craziness was really starting to wear on him. 

Dean yawns and rolls to one side accidentally pulling his bottom out of the diaper Papa had lined him up with.

"Hold still please, “Papa asks tugging him onto his back again. 

Dean rolls with it, but flings his arm out to toss the rubber ball. He's too tired to try figuring out the puzzle.

He hears Papa chuckle as Dean wipes at his eyes. 

"Is my baby getting sleepy?"

Dean's too tired to response. He settles for shaking his head.

Papa chuckles again, "of course you aren't."

Dean lies quietly, wiping at his eyes and yawning wider and wider. This is the part that always takes the longest, and Papa makes the silliest of faces. It's when Papa has to hold the straps of Dean's diaper with his fingers while using his thumb and pinky to pull the opposite strap tight enough to ensure a snug fit. But it's tricky and Papa's fingers always slip.

He hears Papa grumble a few times, "c'mon, c' _mon_." He says before Dean finally hears a "there we go."

"Alright, Papa is going to go make you a bottle and we'll head upstairs for a nap, yeah?"

Dean is left on the floor in his playpen. His limbs are all splayed open wide, and his eyes are all droopy. He hadn't even known he was tired until Papa put an end to his dancing and singing. 

Being an infant is like that. Dean always feels like he can run at full capacity for an unlimited amount of time, and he never realizes he's hit his stopping point until he's less than five minutes removed from a nap.

Papa comes back and scoops him off the floor. Dean's eyes are closed, but he latches onto his older father as the man carries him upstairs. 

Dean goes with the flow. Lying wherever his Papa puts him, not fussing at Papa pulling off his onesie and replacing it with a soft sleeper. Dean feels all cuddly and warm, and by the time Papa is ready to feed him Dean needs to be jostled awake a little bit.

"C’mon sweetheart, Papa needs you to wake up. We've gotta get this bottle down, huh?"

Dean opened his eyes and saw that they were in Daddy and Papa's bed. So that meant that Papa planned on joining him for a nap. Cool. Papa snuggles fucking rocked, and the prospect alone made him feel sleepier. 

Dean allowed Papa to feed him his bottle. It was a little tricky for the man, as Dean had to lie in and be fed from the same arm. It was different, but Dean liked the experience. He was all curled up in Papa's arm this way. 

He kept his eyes open, but simply stared at the liquid in his bottle. It was thicker than the milky formula Dean usually drank, but ever since the doctor's visit he'd been drinking a thicker protein drink. It kind of had a chalky texture to it when he rolled his tongue around his mouth after one of these bottles, but Papa and Daddy always bought the chocolate and strawberry flavors, so Dean always thought of them as healthy milkshakes. 

He was fed three bottles every day. One before breakfast, one before nap, and one before bed. And then Papa always gave him one in his playpen to replace his apple juice. That bottle was only ever half full. As were the breakfast and bedtime bottle. So it averaged out to two and a half bottles when Dean added in the full one at nap time. 

The stuff was good though, and he got it in _addition_ to food. So Dean was happily turning into Papa and Daddy's "porky butt," which they lovingly called him when he ate a full meal. 

It felt good being spoiled. 

When Dean's bottle is over Papa folds him over his shoulder, it's the only way Papa can hold Dean up while patting his back lightly to make sure there's no gas built up in the little boy's tummy. 

Dean burps lazily onto the burp cloth that Papa had over his shoulder and he helps Papa out by wiping his face all on his own. 

Papa pulls him down, and probably thinks that Dean didn't do a good enough job, as the man wipes Dean's mouth again. It did kind of feel like Dean had missed a glob of spit. 

"Alright Dean. Let's take a snooze, huh?"

Dean has no energy left. He simply flops down on Daddy's pillow and cuddles up as Papa cleans up the bed and turns the lights down low as he crawls in on his side. 

It was a little awkward with Papa's bad arm, but he manages to crook his arm up and brush his fingers over Dean's cheek.

He coos, happy and content as he falls asleep.

*****

Dean thought that Daddy was done with his ridiculous parenting hippie-dippie techniques, but he should have known better. The floppy-haired man was a bit extravagant at times and had way too much fun embarrassing Dean. Or so was his theory. 

He found out he was wrong later that night after dinner when Daddy got home. 

Dean’s younger father came into the kitchen while Dean was in his highchair. Papa had handed him a raw spear of asparagus that he was munching on and Dean couldn't hold back his squeal of excitement when he saw the man enter the room. 

"Hey Monkey!" Daddy said as he dropped off a bag on the floor by the door leading to the living room. 

Dean greeted his Daddy by holding out his hand. He'd never had asparagus before, and wanted to show it to his Daddy. 

"Ooh, what does Dean have? Is that asparagus?" He asks, sitting down and pulling Dean's highchair closer to Daddy's chair. 

"Yeah." 

Dean goes back to munching on the spear. It was pretty tasty, he had to admit. Raw veggies weren't Dean’s thing, but he didn't mind this particular pre-dinner snack. 

Daddy stole Dean's hand at one point and took a big bite from the spear in his hand, which left a very little piece left, but Daddy reached forward at the counter and grabbed another spear for Dean. This one had some beige goop on it, and Daddy placed it in Dean's free hand – as he refused to give up the small piece even though he wasn't planning to eat it. He might change his mind. 

"Uh?" He wasn't too sure about this goop stuff. One new food at a time daddies.

"That's called hummus, sweetie."

And that does nothing to please Dean, Daddy.

"Uh."

Dean holds his hand out to Daddy. He isn't sure he wants to eat something he can't pronounce. 

"You don't look very convinced. Can Dean give it just one try?" 

Damnit Daddy. The man pulls out the puppy dog eyes and pouts at him until Dean hands him over the spear. If Dean's gonna try this then Daddy can put the work into breaking off an edible piece for him.

Daddy does just that, and pops a piece in Dean's mouth. He chews, putting his mouth of new pearly whites to work chewing the hummus and asparagus that Daddy fed him. It was....it wasn't bad.

Dean wanted more.

He held out his hand for the spear that Daddy had taken from him and happily listened to Daddy's chuckles as Dean shoved the hummus and asparagus covered snack into his mouth.

"I knew you would like it monkey."

Dean rolls his eyes and ignores Daddy in favor of munching his snack.

Daddy starts talking to Papa; they're talking about their day, what Daddy did at work. Boring adult things that Dean has no interest in.

It's a little odd that Daddy doesn't offer to help Papa with dinner – he's making... okay, Dean doesn't know what he's making – but at the same time he thinks that maybe Papa wouldn't want help, and that Daddy probably knows that.

Dean keeps munching on the odd asparagus spear while they keep talking; every so often Daddy flashes a smile his way and presses a kiss to his head.

Its as Daddy gets close, just as he has a dozen times before, that Dean thinks Daddy looks hungry, and he shoves his hand into Daddy's mouth – he thought it was the one with asparagus in it, but that one was currently in his mouth – when Daddy's teeth come together right quick and smash Deans little fingers. 

Dean lets out a quick yelp and starts crying before Daddy has a chance to figure out what's wrong, and then by the time he does Daddy has him out of the highchair and snuggled close before Papa can react.

"What happened?" He hears his older father ask.

"He put his hand in my mouth, I bit his little fingers," Daddy says holding Dean's sore hand out for inspection. 

Dean can see his little fingers. There are no marks, just a little line of pink along his fingers that indicates where he was bit. But that didn't appease him enough to keep from crying. 

Daddy hoisted him up onto his chest for a cuddle. Dean wasn't suffering from major bodily harm, but he was upset all the same, so he was glad Daddy was paying him extra special attention. 

But now that his distraction was gone – having dropped his spear – he was forced to pay attention to his daddies' conversation as opposed to passively listen to it. 

"So you were going in tomorrow?" 

"Yeah. Doctor wanted me to come back and get everything checked out."

Dean heard doctor and whined. He thought his daddies had learned better by now...

"No no, sweetheart," Daddy said rubbing his large hand over his back, "this would be Papa and Daddy's doctor. Not Dean's doctor."

Oh. Dean dodged a bullet there.

Daddy kept talking to Papa while rubbing Dean's back, who kept sniffling. His fingers didn't hurt anymore, but it always took him a little while to turn his tears off completely. 

"So is he checking out your ankle?"

"And my head," Papa replied. "He's checking where I'm at with my concussion."

"Well, didn’t the doctor at the hospital say you were recovering steadily?"

"Yeah, he said the way I fell kept the injury minimal. My headaches have gone down, which is nice. And it’s easier for me to remember things and all. So I'm hopeful that he'll give me some good news."

Daddy hums thoughtfully as he spins Dean around on his lap to face Papa at the counter. He was plating up some salads. That would make Daddy happy, sure, but Dean was going to get some meat out of this deal, right?

"Don't worry Monkey; Papa has some grilled chicken and fruit for you."

Oh, thank Jesus. 

Daddy scooped Dean up and settled him on his hip, reaching out to grab a small plate for Dean, which he held in the hand of the arm curled around the little boy's back, before he grabbed his own plate. 

Dean snagged a piece of diced honeydew from the bowl and started munching on the fruit as Daddy put their plates on the table and tucked him into his highchair. 

"Alright. There you go Monkey," Daddy said as he placed Dean's plate on the tray, "have at it Porky Butt."

Dean giggled and grabbed a slice of chicken. 

He watched Papa and Daddy sit down and eat quietly for a minute. 

"So if I get a good review when are we leaving?" 

Leaving? Were they leaving? This is the first Dean's heard of this.

"Uh?"

"Well I'm all caught up on paperwork. All we need is the confirmation that you're good to go and finalize where we're going."

"I should be out of the boot at least, so I think we could go with our first option."

First option? What the hell was the first option? Moreover, what were they talking about? Had Dean been spacing out that much lately?

"Do you think it'll be warm with your sling?"

"I was told I could move to a lighter weight one as it healed."

"Do you think you could get moved into a smaller one?"

Daddy didn't sound sure.

"I'm hoping so," Papa shrugged with his one good arm. "But if not this thing isn't so bad."

"It’s August though Cassie, the weather is a little cooler up here."

"Eh."

They go back to eating and Dean is left staring back between them. Daddy glances up when he notices that Dean isn't eating the food he's holding onto. 

"Aren't you hungry sweetheart?"

"Yeah," Dean says before he goes back to eating. He's fucking curious, but lacks the skills to ask his daddies what they're talking about. So he continues dinner with the hope that someone will eventually tell him what's going on. 

*****

It's after dinner and Sam has a naked Dean perched on his lap as he and Cas try to figure out the new item that Sam has bought. 

It’s a.... well. It’s a simulator for natural female lactation. 

....it's a bra with nipples. 

And Dean is looking at them like they're fucking crazy. 

Sam couldn't help it though. It reminded him of the experience of carrying Dean around in the kangaroo care, and while Dean had bonded with them well enough he felt like there was more he could do to make Dean feel closer to them. The bra was also supposed to make 'nursing' your babes a more soothing experience, and make them more likely to drink down more of whatever it is you had filled the chambers in the bras with. 

"So it's fairly simple right?" He said to Cas who seemed unconvinced with the new 'crazy first time parent' item Sam had bought. 

"Well yeah, but do you think you know who is going to use it?"

Sam smiled. For some reason Dean never seemed to know that he was the one that they were always talking about. He was truly their perfect little boy.

"I think we won't know unless we try," he said as he laid Dean out on the bed and pulled his shirt off. "Hand it over Cassie."

His skeptical husband passed over the bra and Sam shimmied it on. It fit firmly over his chest, and he couldn't help but feel up the large 'breasts' that he now had. 

"Nice rack," Cas said flatly.

"Why thanks."

Cas rolled his eyes as he scooted back toward the headboard. 

Sam scooped Dean back up, he was half asleep already. They'd given him his routine bath and Cas had rubbed him down with the lavender lotion that turned their babe into a puddle of goo, so all that was left was Dean's bottle. 

He was just getting it a little differently this time. 

"C'mon Monkey; Daddy's got a treat for you."

Sam propped Dean up like he did when he fed him a bottle, and Cas thoughtfully shoved a throw pillow under his arm to help keep it in place. 

Dean seemed to have a pout in place as Sam shifted his face a little closer to the nipple that he's trying to get Dean to nurse from. 

"I know this is a little different, but I promise that you'll like it."

That might be a bit of a stretch.

Dean doesn't look like he's going to open up, so Sam pops his finger into Dean's mouth so he can manipulate the nipple into Dean's mouth. 

After Sam slips his finger out he gives the 'breast' a slight squeeze. The bra actually contains two bags in them, so babes can press on them to get the nipples to release more milk. It’s fairly simple, but effective. And Sam is hoping Dean enjoys the experience. 

Dean starts sucking and Sam can't keep his free hand away from Dean. Usually he's forced into holding the bottle and nuzzling Dean as he nursed, but now with this 'hands free' option he can run his fingers through Dean's hair and rub soothingly along the boys back and sides. 

It only takes a few minutes for Dean to close his eyes and snuggle closer to Sam's chest. 

Sam can't help but look at Cas with a smug look on his face. 

"Yeah, yeah," Cas rolls his eyes and tugs his cell phone out from his pocket. "Shut up and smile. I need to send a picture of this to your brother."

Sam gladly smiled for the picture before looking back to Dean's sweet face. 

*****

Dean has to admit. This bra thing wasn’t too horrible. 

He was staring at his Daddy as if the man was high when he presented to Dean what was in the shopping bag he brought home with him. 

He had been convinced that he wasn't going to cooperate with Daddy's crazy plans, but then when Daddy put the thing on and pulled him close he figured he'd give it a try. The experience wasn’t awful, but what really changed his mind was when Daddy started rubbing his back and carding his hand through his hair. Dean had been turned into a sponge for affection, and while bottle-feedings always held a certain level of lovingness to them his daddies had never had both hands free to snuggle him with.

He kicked out a little bit at Daddy’s arm to burrow in closer and turned towards Daddy’s chesticles all on his own to become more snuggly. Dean wasn’t too sure about what he should do with his hands though. Normally they’d be wrapped around the bottle if he wasn’t too tired, but he didn’t really have anywhere to put them at the moment. 

It was some kind of instinct that had him reaching out and kneading the bra that surrounded the nipple he was suckling from, and when he did he found that he was better able to control the flow of milk. 

Fucking awesome!

Dean was positively purring at that point. All snuggled and warm and filling up on the protein milk that his Daddy was feeding him. He was steadily kneading the ‘breast’ at that point, lazily suckling and drinking. It didn’t even phase him when Daddy pulled him off and flipped him over to start in on the second nipple. It all just felt so natural. 

He should have known that Daddy wasn’t totally crazy with his hippie parenting techniques. The man seemed to _sometimes_ know what he was doing. 

Dean didn’t even think to complain when the empty nipple was pulled from his lips and replaced with a pacifier as his daddies put him down for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five points to anyone who guesses where/what kind of vacation the boys are talking about ;)


	26. Cas' Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Sorry about the long absence! Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait!
> 
> A bit of a foreword.
> 
> A commenter mentioned Crowley a few weeks ago.....
> 
> And in this chapter I modeled Henry's behavior off of my own Dad. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

Seeing as he was down an arm and a foot Cas couldn't really drive himself anywhere. So for his doctor's appointment he had to call in a favor. 

“Hey Henry,” Cas greeted his father-in-law as he opened the front door. 

“Cas. How you feeling boy?”

“Good. I'm expecting a headache once I get in the car, but I was going to take some precautionary aspirin.”

He led the man into the kitchen where Dean was determinedly feeding himself mashed apples mixed with oatmeal. Cas had to mix the apples into the boy's breakfast, as usually Dean would only eat plain oatmeal when he was too tired to kick up a fuss. But that morning Cas had seen the steely set of Dean's eyes which told him he would be a stubborn little boy that day. So gone went the plain oatmeal, and he didn't even try to feed Dean. 

Instead he had thrown a handful of green apple slices in the food processor to get it to a nice and mushy consistency, and handed Dean the little plastic spoon when he had sat the little boy in his highchair. 

Dean had oatmeal smeared all over his face and a dribble of it falling off of his chin onto the bib. 

“Well hey there Dean,” Henry said sitting down and pulling Dean's highchair close. “Whatcha got there?”

Cas smiled as he listened to Dean excitedly telling his Grandpa about his breakfast. He distinctly caught the word 'p-ples' which he took to mean 'apples'.

“Yeah? Are you having fun making a mess of yourself there?”

Dean giggled as a response. It was a definitive yes. 

“Well your Papa has an appointment soon, so can Grandpa feed you?” 

Cas turned from where he was packing Dean's diaper bag to see Henry hold his hands out to Dean. The little boy was holding his spoon in a clenched fist, and Cas could see his desire to keep feeding himself at war with his desire to give into his Grandpa's command. 

Dean eventually handed the spoon over. 

“Thanks squirt.”

Henry pulled Dean's bowl closer and food started getting _in_ Dean's mouth as opposed to around it. 

“When are we heading off?”

“My appointment is at ten. So I'd like to leave when Dean's finished.”

“Alright. Then you go and sit. I'll finish feeding the runt and get him in the car. I'll let you know when I need you.” 

Cas would have argued, but Dean looked so pleasantly content with Henry that Cas couldn't make either of his boy's upset by saying no. 

“Okay. Feed and clean my monster and let me know when we're all ready to go.”

Henry nodded and Cas made his escape to the living room. He propped himself up on pillows and closed his eyes for a good twenty minutes. Bum arm or not, having a baby was a tiring experience and he wasn't about to turn down some quiet time. 

His escape didn't keep him completely out of ear shot and he could hear the two in the kitchen talking. Henry's gruff voice carried pretty well, but the low growl to it kept it pretty unintelligible. Dean was happy and giggley and his little coos could be heard pretty easily. 

Cas couldn't keep the smile from his face as he listened to Dean's giggles and muffled responses to whatever Henry was saying. Dean had so much fun with Henry, Mary told them how the two had been inseparable when Dean had stayed over. Henry had so enjoyed having Dean as his little minion while Cas was in the hospital. 

If Dean was in love with Mary – which he totally was, he and Sam had discussed that before – then Henry was Dean's best friend. And anyone who had seen a sixty-something year old man befriend a babe not even in the double digits as far as months are concerned, knows that it's an adorable sight. 

Cas hears a happy shriek come from the kitchen and assumes that Henry has Dean cleaned up and is pulling him from the highchair. Sure enough a few minutes later he heard the sound of approaching feet and Henry appears over the back of the couch. Cas couldn't see Dean, but he could hear him talking quietly to himself, so he figured Henry already had him in the detachable car seat. 

“We good to go?”

“Yep. Monster is fed and cleaned.”

Dean giggles from where he's laying and Cas sees Henry smile down at the little boy. 

Cas pushes off of the couch with his good arm and swipes the pills he laid out on the coffee table. He swallows them dry before accepting Henry's hand in helping him stand up. 

Henry leads the way outside and he opens the backseat of his car. “Alright squirt, lets grab your car seat,” Henry says as he sets Dean on the edge of the driveway. 

Cas watches his father-in-law head to Cas' car and pull out the car seat base. 

“Dean, is Grandpa Henry silly?”

Dean responds around his giggles, “yeah.”

That's when Cas notices that Henry popped a pacifier in Dean's mouth, a step that Cas hadn't even reminded the man of. 

Henry comes back with the base for Dean's car seat and he buckles it in smoothly. Here's a man with less than zero clue on how to secure the straps of Dean’s diaper, and he has the goddamn car seat figured out in less time than it took Sam to open the freaking box. 

Henry is lifting Dean up and securing him in the car before Cas even has time to walk to the other side. 

Cas drops Dean's diaper bag off on the passenger side of the backseat and Henry stops him, “Cas, where's Dean's turtle toy at?”

“Raphael?”

“No. That turtle thing he's always carrying around.”

“Yeah, that's Raphael. I think he's up in Dean's crib.”

Henry nods and turns to run into the house and Cas stands stock still in the driveway, shocked over the fact that Henry not only remembered Dean's favorite toy, but that he was actually taking the time to get him. It wasn't so much that Henry wasn’t an attentive person, he just didn't believe in coddling. 

Henry and Mary were a bit older when they decided on kids. The couple had been in their late thirties when they had Tom, and then their forties for Sam. When Sam was only thirteen Mary had retired from her job as an elementary school teacher and she had been able to tend to her boys full time. Henry continued to work up until a few years ago. And growing up Sam said his Father was always of the tough love mentality. He was a far cry from fathers who only showed their sons affection in the form of a handshake upon their high school graduation, but he wasn't overly 'touchy' either. Henry was the perfectly mixed 'gruff Dad', but he did not remember little boy's stuffies. 

Or so Cas had thought. 

He climbed in Henry's car and adjusted the seat so it was at a bit of an incline, if he wasn't sitting up totally straight he wouldn't feel as dizzy when he first got out of the car. He had learned that thus far. Sitting straight gave him a kind of motion sickness, whereas reclining just kind of rocked him and left him sleepy. He'd still have a headache either way, but sleepy was definitely preferable. 

Cas was just struggling with shutting the car door with his left hand – which was a very difficult reach – when Henry came out with Raphael in tow. 

“Here you go squirt,” he said, tucking the toy in with Dean. 

Dean said something which sounded like a muffled thank you, and Cas smiled. Their little boy was so polite. 

Henry finally got in the car and started her up. He started backing the car up and Cas reached out to turn the radio on. 

“Is that going to work well with a headache?” Henry comments. 

Cas makes a noncommittal noise, “Dean likes it.”

Sure enough they've only been driving a few minutes and the sound of Dean's grunt singing can be heard in the car. 

“Sonofabitch,” Henry says as he turns outright to spare a look at Dean. “He’s singing ain't he?”

“Yep.”

“If that ain't the cutest thing,” Henry shakes his head. “Has he always done that?”

Cas hums a positive and closes his eyes. “He started it about a month ago. Maybe a little longer if we didn't notice right away. He started doing it first in his sleep.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. We heard it over the monitor one night and the next week when we were in the car he started singing along to the radio.”

“Does he sing to everything?”

“Oh, it’s only classic rock. The first time he started walking it was toward a radio to change the station.”

“No shit?”

Cas cracks an eye open and sees the look of pride cross Henry's face as he considers Dean in the rearview mirror. “He really is something.”

Cas turns his head to spy the happy boy who is still grunting lyrically along to ' Renegade’ by the Styx. His 'singing’ had improved and instead of just his little grunts Dean would include some ''nuhs' and 'nahs' to his routine. 

Dean hadn't heard the two older men discussing him as he was clearly too busy, set on repeat as he wiggled in his car seat and chanted “nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh,” over and over again. 

Cas turned his head back forward and silently agreed with Henry's assessment. 

Dean really was something. 

**

They were in the waiting room at the doctor's office and Dean was charming the pants off the receptionist and an older women who was sitting at the other end of the room from them. Dean was wide awake and raring to go, and apparently he was in the mood to dance. 

Cas had his boot propped up on a low table that was holding magazines and Dean was using it as a balance bar. The little boy was standing on the floor, his little socked feet pointing out with his little bowed legs, Dean’s hands were holding onto Cas’ leg so he could bounce and wiggle his butt. 

Cas couldn't help but feel proud that his little boy felt comfortable enough to be his regular goofy self in front of strangers. Usually Cas was the only one who was allowed to see Dean be silly and dance, not even Sam always had the chance to see Dean's dancing. Cas had tried to get Dean to dance for Sam once or twice when he came home from work, but Dean would get super shy and bury his head in Cas’ neck whenever he asked. But now? Dean was dancing to some pop song on the radio that was playing in the waiting room – he was pretty sure it was Taylor Swift – and giggling behind his pacifier. 

The older lady had already started calling Dean a jitter bug, and the receptionist would stand from her chair every so often to spy Dean over the counter.

“Is Dean being silly?” Cas asked his little boy. 

Dean’s response was a sweet soother blocked smile and a happy little hum. 

Henry chuckled and shook his head as he flipped through his phone. He had a Facebook which he used to spy on family and friends and watch a disturbing amount of cat videos. 

Cas rolled his eyes and turned back to Dean who had paused in his bouncy dance. His eyes were half lidded and crossed and his jaw was clenching around his pacifier. Cas was ninety percent sure that Dean was pooping, he was just about to reach down and see if he had a smelly diaper on his hands when he heard one of Dean's little baby farts.

Yep. Definite poopy diaper. 

Dean dropped to his backside and looked up at Cas. Dean hated sitting in a dirty diaper, and he hated this kind more than a wet one. 

Cas pulled his foot from the table and was about to reach for the diaper bag when he realized Henry was already ontop of it. He had the bag in hand and Dean perched on his arm before Cas could react further. 

“I can get him Henry,” Cas said immediately. Dean always seemed wary of people other than his daddies changing him, Mary was an okay alternative, but Henry wasn't. 

“Nonsense ya got one arm, and if I'm smelling right little stinker here has cooked up a grenade, are you really telling me you can hold him down and wipe him off with only one arm?”

“What do you think I've been doing? Calling Sam every time Dean poops?”

Henry rolls his eyes instead of responding. “Text me if you get called back.”

Cas lets Henry go, mostly because Dean looks so disinterested in it being Henry changing his diaper that he figured the babe must have changed his mind about his grandfather and allowed him to be on the short list of acceptable diaper changers. 

Babies are funny that way. In that they only let the people they really care about wipe their assess. 

Cas really hopes that the pair comes back before he gets called in, he'd like Henry and Dean to initially walk back with him and not have his father in law track him down like some child with a fear of doctors. It isn't so much that he wants Henry with him as he wants to keep an eye on Dean. His little monster can be quite the trouble maker. 

Luck apparently isn't on his side as he's just settled back into his chair when a nurse steps out and calls him back. 

“Castiel Wesson?”

Cas flails his good arm around top signal who he is to gain get attention while he works on standing up. Not that it's entirely necessary, as the only other lady in the waiting room is in her seventies, and the nurse knows exactly who Cas is. He wasn't thinking straight though, he could blame it on the concussion. 

The nurse kindly comes over and assists him in standing up. 

“Would you like a wheelchair to get back to the exam room Mr. Wesson?”

Normally Cas would say no, but seeing as Henry and Dean were gone he was willing to admit that between his head, his shoulder and his ankle that he was fairly sore and tired. He could use a wheelchair. 

“Y'know? That would be lovely.”

The kind nurse smiles and goes to collect a wheelchair for him, and being able to sink down and be wheeled into his room, none of that weight and height nonsense disrupting him and reminding him that his young husband is as tall as a California redwood and he _isn't_ , is a pleasant experience. 

“Alright,” the nurse says as she parks Cas in the room. “I'll just leave you in the chair then, and if Dr. Sheppard thinks he needs to move you then I'll leave that up to him.”

Cas nods silently and watches as she pulls out a blood pressure cuff. It's a new one though, and meant to be automatic as she holds it up presses a button and watches it go. As the cuff is squeezing the life out of his good limb she swipes a thermometer over his forehead. 

“Hmm, 99.2. That's a little high.”

She makes a note in his chart. 

“This is some fancy tech,” he comments. Having a distinct lack of better things to say. 

“Yeah, the automated gear is a little pricier, but it saves us time and eliminates a lot of the problems associated with regular cuffs.”

Cas makes a curious sound and sits patiently as she boots up a computer and goes down the route of questions. Just the kind of routine things to catch any preliminary problems. 

It's then that Henry slips his way into the room with a fresh Dean on his hip and a soft frown on his face. 

“Thought I told you to text me,” is his greeting. 

“Sorry, I forgot,” Cas honestly did. 

Usually Henry wouldn't accept that excuse, but hey, there were some perks to having a concussion. 

Henry set Dean down on the exam table with Raphael and a bottle of his protein milk, and sits quietly in the free chair as Cas and the nurse finish up their Q and A.

The Nurse exits with a small wave directed at Dean and the little boy flushes pink and gets all shy around the pretty lady. 

“What's with the chair?” Henry asks, and Cas looks down in confusion already having forgotten that he had accepted the wheelchair. “Thought you said you were feeling okay.”

Henry looks upset that Cas was lying about his condition. 

“I do feel okay, my head just hurts a little bit from the car ride and I was a little dizzy when I stood up from my chair in the waiting room, that was all.”

Henry doesn't look inclined to believe him even though he's telling the truth. 

“You'd best not be lying to me son,” Henry warns. 

“What would be the point in lying to you? If I was then I'd have to lie to the doctor as well when he comes in and that would just be stupid.”

Henry looks more ready to accept that, but Cas can tell he isn't too thrilled with his tone. That was the downside to Cas and Sam being together at such a young age, Sam's parents were forever under the impression that Cas was the naïve and foolish twenty something that he was when Sam first brought him home. 

Cas decides to save himself the chastising and changes the focus back over to Dean. 

“Dean do okay with his diaper change?”

“Of course!” Henry seems offended that Cas would suggest that Dean would ever misbehave a day in his life. “He had what Mary would call a case of the peanut butter butt.”

Cas cringes at the same time that Dean giggles upon hearing Henry's announcement. Such a little boy thing, giggling at butts and farts.

“Does Dean think that's funny? Having peanut butter butt?”

The pacifier blocked giggles continue and Cas can't keep a smile off his face as he turns back to Henry. “So this is like the first diaper you've changed in, well ever, isn't it?”

Henry shoots Cas a look that tells him to shut up, but he answers him anyway. 

“Despite what Mary says I have changed a diaper before.”

“Really? I didn't think you had changed any before, did you change Becky when she was little?” Cas is half teasing, half curious. 

“Nah. Never changed Becky.”

“Sam and Tom then?”

Henry shrugs, “a little. But most of my practice came from Dean here when he was staying with us while you were in the hospital.”

“Really?” that's actually quite shocking to hear. “What turned you into a nineteen-fifties housewife?”

“Yeah really. Dean was pretty upset the first night. He was crying, calling for you and Sam. I don't think he knew quite what was going on, but you could tell he knew something was wrong. He was up most of the night, and about midnight I took him from Mary, she'd been trying to calm him down, and I took him downstairs to watch some John Wayne movie and he calmed down a little bit, but he was still crying. When Sam was that age and he was crying he'd only calm down when I laid him over my lap on his belly and rubbed his back, so I did that. His crying stopped as if I had flipped the off button.”

Henry shrugged, “I felt more connected to Dean then than I ever have with Becky. I love my grandkids equally, its just that Dean reminds me so much of Sam. Becky is a lot like Jess and while I love her that connection just wasn't there like what I found with Dean. I thought it was so odd though, I always thought that when you and Sam had a kid that I would love him, but I never thought I would connect with him like that since he would be adopted.” 

Henry shook his head. “I never thought that the kid would turn out quite like Dean.”

Cas was kind of shocked by Henry's speech. He was always the man for strangely timed revelations. He wasn't sure what to say in reply, but he figured the best way for macho man Henry to overcome his dainty open heart moment was if he made a joke about it. 

“Well geez Henry, didn't think you'd get all sentimental about Dean's poop.”

Henry huffed out a laugh which is the response Cas was hoping for. 

Cas turned his attention back to Dean who was blatantly ignoring his grandfather and Papa while playing with his turtle. He didn't always see the changes Dean had made over the months that they had had him in their lives, but he could really see it in that moment. For the longest time little kids’ toys wouldn't be enough to entertain Dean and keep him busy, but here he was toes wiggling as he played with Raphael. He was just picking at the fabric, fingers tracing the beaded eyes and such. 

He was totally captured with the activity. 

 

The moment was broken by a knock on the door. 

“Hello, hello,” Dr. Sheppard poked his head in the door and stepped into the room. His eyes swept over Cas in the wheelchair – Cas had been a patient of his for years, Cas was old news – and landed on Dean. 

“What have we here?”

Dean’s head snapped up at the sound of the unfamiliar accent. 

“Who is this young bugger?” 

“This is Dean. Sam and I were finally approved for adoption. We've had him for about four months now.”

“Dean,” Dr. Sheppard tries out the name as he sits in his chair and rolls forward to address the little boy on the exam table. “How is it that you and gigantor managed to snatch up the cutest kid of the bunch?”

Cas couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he watched Dean staring at Dr. Sheppard. 

“Come here, let's have a look see.”

Dr. Sheppard was scooping him up and settling him in his arms before Dean could throw up a protest. 

“He's a light one innit he?” 

The two males were at odds with their looks. Dean looked extremely unimpressed with Dr. Sheppard’s evaluation with him which came out in the most adorable baby bitch face. The doctor on the other hand looked positively gleeful with his enjoyment in holding Dean. 

“Well I don't think I'm going to get my fill of this little tyke any time soon,” Dr. Sheppard stood up with Dean clutched on his hip. “Can I have you move up on the exam table?”

Cas had Henry help him up so he didn't loose his balance as he scoots his butt across the crinkle paper.

“Alright,” Dr. Sheppard glanced through the notes the nurse had left on Cas’ chart. “Bit of a fever, but that can be caused by a few things. Your surgery, your headache - I'm assuming that you have one – point is your body is stressed and healing in various locations, it'll be a little high. Same goes for your blood pressure. Nothing crazy, 125 over 85, same reasons as your temperature. Lingering healing so your heart is working a little harder, nothing that causes concern.”

He clicks something new open on the computer. “While I run down a list of questions for your head can your Dad help you remove your boot. We’ll take a peek at your ankle before I move to your shoulder.”

Dr. Sheppard was well aware of the fact that Henry was Sam's Dad, but it didn't keep him from calling him Cas’ father as well. 

Henry steps forward to undo the Velcro straps on Cas’ boot and Cas takes a minute to watch Dean who is perched quite comfortably on Dr. Sheppard’s lap. Dean keeps swiveling his head between the silly Scottish man and the computer screen that the doctor is looking at. Cas was sure that Henry was thinking the sight to be just as sweet as he did. 

Once his boot was off and the questions were through Dr. Sheppard rolled over and placed his hands delicately over Cas’ ankle. 

“I'm just going to rotate this gently and I want you to tell me if anything stings, pinches or any other unsavory adjectives.”

It twinged a bit when he pointed his toes inward and Cas told him as much. 

“All very typical I'm afraid, it still feels like there's some slight swelling on the tendons here,” he said placing his fingers against the ball joint on the outside of his ankle. “It'll likely take a few more weeks to heal completely. I'd like to see you in the boot for an additional month to make sure that everything heals properly.”

“If it starts feeling better before then can I take it off?”

Cas wasn't really looking forward to another month in that thing. It didn't make life difficult, just a bit cumbersome. 

“You could but I wouldn't recommend it. People with similar injuries who have removed the boot too soon have experienced lingering pains up to six months longer than patients who kept the boot on until all swelling and tenderness went down.”

Cas nodded and watched Dr. Sheppard as he assisted Henry in getting his boot back on. 

Dean was being a surprisingly pleasant angel during Cas’ appointment. He supposed half of it was due to the fact that the appointment wasn't for Dean, and also the fact that Dr. Sheppard was an interesting character who had captured Dean's attention. 

“Okay, now for the hard part. Go ahead and slip out of your sling and we'll see how everything is doing.”

“Henry can you undo the buckles in front and back and then help me slip my arm out before pulling this over my head?”

“Sure.”

Henry was very careful with how he handled Cas’ arm, and the sling, which Cas was more than grateful for. 

Meanwhile Dr. Sheppard was busy preoccupying himself with Dean. 

“So who is this handsome fellow?”

Cas glanced over to see Dean sucking calmly on his pacifier as he held Raphael out for the other man to study. 

Dean garbles something unintelligible but Cas catches the word Ruh, so he knows that Dean is introducing his beloved toy to the man. 

“That would be Raphael,” Cas translates. 

“Hmm. Raphael? I assume he isn't named after the archangel.”

“Nope. Try the ninja turtle,” Henry slipped his arm from the sling and Cas grimaced. 

“Ah. I believe I've heard of them before.”

“Really? I had to have Sam explain that one to me,” Henry said as he slowly pulled the sling over Cas' head. 

“Yeah? I thought Tom and Sam watched Saturday morning cartoons, you never caught an episode with them?” That was Dr. Sheppard. He knew the whole family, he was the primary doctor for everyone but Dean, he only had adult patients. 

“I did, but I don't think they ever watched that show.”

The doctor shrugged and turned back to Dean. 

“Does squirrel here watch the show?”

“Squirrel?”

“Well no offense Castiel, but you don't exactly fit the Rocky and Bullwinkle image.”

Henry outright laughs at that one. 

 

“Sam makes a pretty convincing moose,” Cas commented, which made Dean giggle on the doctor's lap. Cas laughs at the reaction. “S’that funny? Daddy being a moose?”

Dean giggled again and nods. 

Dr. Sheppard stands up with Dean secure in his arms and reached out to roll the sleeve up on Cas’ injured shoulder. 

“Sorry, I should have worn a sleeveless shirt.”

“You're fine, I can get to everything I need to see ready enough.”

Cas nods and tries not to grimace too much when Dr. Sheppard pressed his fingers over the break in his collar bone. It didn't help that the break was directly over the incision/bullet wound so there was twice the amount of pain that one could expect. 

“It looks like the break is starting to fuse together nicely. Your incision is doing well also.”

“When I was in the hospital I was told I would be able to switch slings after a certain point in the healing process. Would I be able to change slings?”

“Growing tired of being wrapped up like a mental patient?”

“A bit.”

“I could send you home with a lighter sling if you wish. It won't be the plain sling that you're expecting but it will be much better than this model. But I feel confident that the new sling won't hinder the healing process any.”

“That is great news.”

“I'll run and grab the new sling and we'll test it out to make sure that it fits well and holds your arm nice and proper.”

Cas nods as Dr. Sheppard walks out of the exam room with Dean still attached to his hip. 

“Is he going to steal your son?”

Cas glances at Henry. “There's like a forty percent chance he won't.”

“Yeah, and the other sixty percent is the chance that he'll smuggle him to the receptionist.”

They share laugh together. Because it's true, people really do seem to fall for the little boy. 

**

Dean doesn't mind this doctor guy. He's nothing like Dr. Patrick was. Not that Dean really has anything against Dr. Patrick, Dean just didn't meet him on a good day. But this guy? He was pretty cool. 

He smelled like expensive coffee and had a really cool accent and Dean thought it was especially funny that he had called Daddy a moose. Dean knew who Rocky and Bullwinkle were. 

He had been a little apprehensive at first, as the good doctor seemed a bit like a sleazy salesmen who offered the clichéd ‘too good to be true ' deals, but Dean could tell after the guy picked him up that he was okay. 

Dean had become really good in reading people based on how they picked him up. It was all in how they put their hands on him and how soft their touches were. The doctor was confident and warm, strong in places where some people's were soft, as strange as it sounds it _felt_ like being held by a doctor, but not in a clinical sense, more of a nurturing sense. 

It was the perfect combination of how it felt to be held by either Grama or Granpa. The tender nurturer mixed with the strong protector. 

Dean liked it. 

And now they were on an adventure for Papa's new sling. 

He was still holding Raphael as they walked, but Dean got a little distracted looking at things and accidentally let the stuffed toy fall from his fingers. He was about to let out a soft cry to let the doctor know something had happened, but there was no need. 

“Dropped your toy there sweetheart.” He stooped low to retrieve it. “Can't have you without your side kick, yeah?”

Dean grabbed Raphael up and held him closer as they continued. 

The doctor walked into a storage room which held all kinds of medical supplies inside, and he walked over to a wall which boasted medical wraps and other such gear.

“Keep your eyes open for a sling,” the man muttered as he started poking through the shelves. 

Dean nodded and looked around the room for the aforementioned 'slings’. But he was a little confused, were they going to attack him? 

He sucked slowly on his pacifier and watched the doctor dig. Eventually he came up with what he was looking for. 

“There we are,” he held up a black object, “what do you say? Think your Father will like this one better?”

Dean stared at the object with rapt attention, but he couldn't come up with an answer. It looked just as confusing as the last one, but then again the straps to his car seat threw Dean nowadays. 

He looked back up at the doctor and hoped his confusion showed in his eyes. 

“My word, you really are very cute.”

The doctor turned and started walking so he wasn't able to catch Dean's stink eye. 

He wasn't cute. 

They followed the maze of halls back to Papa's exam room and Dean smiled hugely at the grin of amusement on his older father's face. 

“Did Dean and Dr. Sheppard go on an adventure?”

Dean nodded and cooed from behind his pacifier. It was important Papa know it was fun. That way he would be more inclined to bring him to see the doctor again. 

“Right, let's get you into this, yeah?”

Once again Dean wasn't put down and the doctor defaulted to Henry to help with the work of getting Papa into his sling. 

Dean thought it looked more simple than the last sling, but when it was all on and Papa was tugging at the straps and making adjustments Dean couldn't help but notice one big problem: where the Chuck was he supposed to sit? 

This new sling sucked. Screw Papa's needs, Dean wanted the old sling back right now. 

“Nuh-NO!”

The three older men seemed a little taken back by Dean's outburst. 

“No?” Papa parroted confused. “Does Dean not like the new sling?”

Hells no.

“No!”

“Was he attached to the old one?” Granpa sounds just as confused. Can none of them see the flaw? 

But Papa catches on really quick and soon he's saying “oh,” and making his smart face, so Dean knows he understands. 

“Is there no Dean pocket?”

Dean pouts and turns toward Dr. Sheppard’s chest. 

“I'm sorry noodle, but Papa can't carry you in this one, which I'm sure your Daddy will be very happy about.”

“How did you carry him in the old one?” Dr. Sheppard sounds curious. 

“The front chest strap, I slipped him in between that and he put his feet on the band that went around my abdomen.”

“Clever,” the doctor sounds impressed but didn't chastise Papa for it, likely cause he knows the habit won't be able to continue. 

“Might I make a suggestion?”

Or perhaps Dean was wrong. 

“Sure.”

“I could get you a second strap to loop around the front here. It would more or less just be a cross-body support but I'm sure it would be something you could slip Dean into.”

Papa and Henry glance between him and the sling. 

“How so?”

“Allow me to show you.”

Dr. Sheppard produces an extra strap out of thin air and rigs it to Papa's sling, it's a super wide one that covers nearly all of Papa's chest. The new strap runs from the top of Papa's good shoulder to his bad wrist where it sits in the sling. 

“You should be able to slip Dean in there, the strap will go across his back, his little bum will rest right above your hand so you'll be able to hold him up.”

“That won't put any pressure on his collar bone?”

Granpa doesn't sound convinced. 

“Not at all, so long as Cas doesn't do anything crazy he'll be okay. Most of Dean's weight should be held up by the waist strap. It might dig in a little more than the last sling as the band isn't as wide, but it'll work well enough for you to hold him while you watch TV or grab him a bottle.”

It was official, Dr. Sheppard was awesome. Mostly because he understood them. Papa didn't carry him around in his sling and clean the house or anything, he just did it so he could keep him safe and close. More often than not when Papa was holding him it was for just the reasons the doctor had listed; cuddling on the couch and quick tasks. He was happy Dr. Sheppard knew that sometimes Dean and Papa just wanted to be close. The fact that Papa was injured sucked, but no one mentioned how hurt Dean would feel with limited Papa access. 

“Now this isn't free reign to carry Dean as you will,” Dr. Sheppard continued, “I would prefer if you kept holding Dean while standing to a minimum, but as long as you aren't using the muscles in your arm to hold him I don't see why your sling can't include a Dean pocket.”

Dr. Sheppard bounced him a bit and Dean giggled. 

“Awesome. So question. Sam and I are planning a vacation in the next week or so, and we were planning on flying. Will I be okay flying with my head?”

“Sure. I would take some aspirin beforehand to keep any headaches from forming, but so long as you aren't on a fourteen hour non-stop to Japan you'll be okay.”

Papa nodded and moved to get off the exam table. 

“You want your wheelchair?”

That was Granpa. 

“Nah, I can walk.” Papa stood and started moving toward the door and Henry started walking after him. Dean started waving goodbye, he was totally prepared to spend the rest of the day with doctor Sheppard. 

Papa and Granpa turned and watched Dean wave. 

“Is Dean going to stay here?”

Dean nods. He totally is. Papa can think of it as a career fair, maybe Dean will want to be a doctor someday. 

Granpa starts laughing, “well you can stay here if you want squirt, but if you come with your Papa and I we were going to go to the park and stop somewhere for lunch. I was going to order some pancakes myself.”

Dean lowered his hand and held Dr. Sheppard’s shirt as he thought. Pancakes and the park were tempting choices, and he wasn't sure that hanging out at the doctor's office could measure up. 

Decision made Dean held his arms out for Papa to take him back. 

“That's what I thought,” Granpa said as Dean was settled against Papa's hip. 

“Can you say goodbye to Dr. Sheppard and thank him?”

Dean curled into Papa's chest and shyly waved at the other man. He felt a little bad that he was picking pancakes over his new friend. 

“I do hope to see you again Dean, today was simply lovely.”

Dean smiled behind his pacifier and watched the three older men as they walled to the waiting room, sharing bits of small talk and pleasantries along the way. Soon enough Dr. Sheppard was bidding them farewell and well wishes for their impending vacation and Papa was slipping him into his car seat with Raphael on his lap. 

“Ark?” he asks sweetly. He hasn't forgotten. Granpa promised the park and pancakes, and if they weren't going to follow through Dean was going to find a way back.

“Don't worry, we're going to the park sweetheart. That was our plan anyway, your Granpa is just improvising a little with the pancakes.”

Oh. Well that was acceptable. Granpa was smart though. Who wouldn't want pancakes for lunch after a visit to the park? 

After getting him all buckled in Papa climbed in his seat and Granpa pulled out of the parking spot. 

“Alright Dean, let's go and have some fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont forget to check CB One Shots for fun time stamps if you haven't done so already!
> 
> The cuteness continues!


	27. Grandpa Henry on the Playground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't supposed to update so soon. I had plans to work on other stories, but all of my other characters seem to be combative, and I'm too tired to fight them. 
> 
> It doesn't help that I felt really crummy this weekend, but at least it was my weekend off so I could curl up in bed with my characters for company.
> 
> I've started the next update for "What's in a wish" but little Dean was being cute and asked for some attention. How could I say no? 
> 
> Anyways. The original character in this chapter is a shout out to my best friend. She reads my stories and mocks me in RL for them, but she is my rock when things get bad and for that I am grateful. 
> 
> That being said most of what I wrote about her is true, other than her name. We have the same first name and while we go by different shortened versions I couldn't use it and feel like I wasn't including myself in the story. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!

The weather was pretty cool for late August. 

Cas had Dean in jeans, and a t-shirt, with warm, soft socks an adorable pair of shoes and he had a light jacket in Dean's diaper bag for the boy. While in the car and at the doctor's office Cas had forgone Dean's shoes and jacket, but if they were going to spend some time outside at the park then Cas was going to dress the boy appropriately. 

Henry had driven them to a beautiful park outside of the small town that he and Mary lived in. It was an older playground that a group of carpenter's had hand made out of wood and donated to the town to create a park. The wooden play structure consisted of tunnels and bridges, a few princess towers with windows and rope ladders, and a large wooden beam that held up half a dozen swings. The whole thing was on top of small pebbles and was situated between an old time candy and ice cream shoppe and a small little church where Henry and Mary went every Friday for the fish fry and every Sunday for some Jesus. 

Henry parked in the angled parking on the main road of the town. There was only one stoplight throughout the entire town, so it wasn't like it was very busy. Cas took his time getting out of the car, his proactive aspirin had paid off and Cas had been able to avoid the really bad headache he had been dreading, but he still felt a little muzzy, so he wasn't going to push it. 

Henry was already on the move to get Dean from the back seat. The little boy had wide eyes, sucking on his pacifier and looking around to see where they were. 

“Henry can you bring him over here? I want to get some shoes on him.”

Henry flipped Dean around so the boy's feet were hanging free off of his arm. 

“Alright. How bout some boots for my baby,” Cas dug Dean's shoes from the diaper bag. He was barely twenty minutes removed from his doctor's appointment and he was already in love with the new sling. While he was still down an arm he had gained a hand which made tasks so much easier as he was able to hold Dean's diaper bag open and dig out Dean's shoes with his good hand. 

Cas stood up to worm Dean's little feet into the shoes and couldn't stop himself from pressing a kiss to the back button of the boy's pacifier. Dean smiled at Cas’ kiss and then immediately turned into a sour monster as Cas held his foot with the hand sticking out of the sling and rotating the shoe on with his other. 

“Uhh! Uhh! Uhhhh!” 

Dean started grunting and crying as Cas worked the first boot on. “What's wrong bug?”

He kept crying out, some of the sound held back by his pacifier, and fortunately Dean wasn't shrieking, but his whiny little cries kept going. 

“I know baby boy, I know,” Cas had no clue what was making Dean so sour, but Dean seemed to feel better thinking that he had his Papa's sympathy. Dean could have been upset by anything, from Cas’ choice of shoes, to him putting them on wrong, to Dean being upset that he needed shoes in general. 

These days Dean didn't really need a reason to be upset. 

Cas worked the shoes on and did up the straps as quickly as he could so that Dean's minor conniption could come to an end, and lo and behold as soon as Cas was finished Dean's tears stopped and his happy look was back. Cas was a little shocked at Dean's reaction. It had only been a few weeks ago that Cas had noticed Dean's ability to hold onto strong emotions like any adult, and now he was going from cries to happy coos all in one breath? 

Was he really regressing that much? 

Before he could put too much more thought into it Henry was walking away and telling Dean about the playground – likely vocalizing his own involvement with the recent efforts to refinish the playground the previous fall. It had been why Cas wasn't worried about splinters. And Dean was bouncing in his Grandpa's arms, just dying for his chance to run and fall on the little pebbles. 

Cas would have warned Henry about Dean's likely face plant should he try to set the little boy down, but Dean wasn't even one yet, and as a rambunctious little boy Cas could see many bumps and bruises in the future. It was best if everyone started getting used to the idea now. 

Cas sat himself on one of the benches with the diaper bag and grabbed a handful of Dean's cheese poofs. He had started carrying them in his bag for Dean to munch on and Cas had kind of developed a taste for them. It was a parent thing, you always wanted to make sure that you liked the snacks your tot was eating, as you could find yourself munching on them some day. 

Cas had accidentally forgotten breakfast that morning. He wasn't sure if it was regular Papa crazy-morning forgetfulness or lasting effects from his concussion, but he wasn't too concerned. So far his forgetfulness had only resulted in a few pill scares where he thought that he had doubled up on his pain meds, he hadn't, but the fear had been there. 

Either way, Cas had some munchies going on and he was stealing food from his infant son. He wasn't going to eat all of them, all Dean needed was a small handful to keep him preoccupied while they were at the restaurant if necessary and that was only if Dean started getting grumpy because he was hungry. 

He watched on as Henry went to go out Dean down and the older man teased Dean by holding by his sides and dangling him above the ground. Dean started kicking his little legs, pumping them quickly through the air as if he was running, and shrieked his displeasure when he realized that he wasn't actually on the ground. 

Henry chuckled a little and – having had his fun – set Dean down to let him walk/run/hop over to wooden stairs that led up to a bridge. 

Cas cringed internally as he watched Dean's uncoordinated movements. They were in for a few falls today, he could feel it. 

Dean made it to the first set of steps and the little boy bent over, placing his hands flat on the steps and hauling himself up with the use of his knees and arms. Cas had seen Dean scale stairs before, but it was no less cute now, especially since Cas could hear Dean talking to his Grandpa excitedly as Henry held a steady hand cupped over Dean's padded rear to prevent any falls. 

Cas smiles and pops a cheese poof.

Dean makes it to the top of the steps and turns to the bridge. Cas can't see the little boy's face, but he can imagine the curtain of fear that befalls him. Dean is often driven by spurts of bravery which leaves him when he gets too far. It's like butter on bread. Sometimes he just doesn't have enough bravery to complete the task. 

What Cas _can_ see though, is Dean throwing his arms open to his Grandpa – who is fortunately kind enough to stay with Dean despite the bridge being no more than three feet from the ground – in a very obvious gesture of surrender. He's scared. The bridge is more intimidating than Dean thought. He's running out of bravery. 

“Are you calling it quits?” Henry teases Dean.

Cas should tell him, you don't tease babies when they're scared, it's a surefire way to endless tears. 

Dean responds by stomping a foot and edging a little closer to his Grandpa. Dean doesn't find Henry's remark funny in the slightest. 

“Do you want down? But you just got up there.”

Cas can hear the desperate cry come from his boy. Dean doesn't care. There's too much bread and not enough butter. 

“What if Grandpa holds your hand? Eh sport.”

Cas watches Dean look between the bridge and his Grandpa. Trying to decide if help can get him across. Cas is curious to see what choice Dean will make. 

Dean takes another tentative step towards his grandfather and holds out one of his little hands. 

“Alright,” Henry grabs Dean's hand through the beams that run parallel to the ground across the bridge which will allow Henry to walk with Dean the whole way and not have to let go of Dean's hand. Cas suspects it was designed that way. “Now we're gonna start walking right?”

Henry starts taking these little shuffled steps as he smiles at his grandson. Cas can’t hold back the temptation and he pulls out his phone to take a short video of Henry walking Dean across the bridge. Its only a few seconds long. Any longer and Cas would have missed out on the moment for himself. It's just long enough so he can show Sam Henry's big smile and Dean's happy breathy grunts. 

They get to the other side and Cas stows his phone. 

“Wow buddy! Lookit you! Did Dean cross the bridge?”

Dean's smiling so wide behind his pacifier and squealing out words. Cas can see how proud he is of himself. 

Dean turns back to the bridge and starts taking quick steps. It looks like he's going to try to bolt across the bridge on his own without Grandpa's help this time. He makes it about halfway across when his little legs freeze up. Fortunately Grandpa is there, offering his hand through the beams and pushing the little boy along to get Dean to the other side. 

It isn't real bravery, but it's as real as Dean is going to get. It's 'I can't believe it's not bravery,' but it works. 

After that Dean is hooked on running across the bridge. He thinks it's so great. Cas can hear his giggles from where he’s sitting, and the smile stays stuck on Dean's face.

Cas just thinks it's funny that out of everything the playground has to offer Dean thinks the best part is running over one of the lower hanging bridges. 

He's happy though. And Dean is having one hell of a time running back and forth. Henry reaches through the lower beam with his free hand on a few of the passes and picks at Dean's pant legs with the tips of his fingers. He can hear Henry's mock growls and his declarations of hunger for little boys. 

The first time Henry did it Dean let out a shriek that was so shrill Cas glanced around for broken windows and pedestrians who were worried Dean was being tortured. But it dissolved into giggles so quickly that Henry kept going just to make Dean laugh. 

Dean's been on the bridge for probably ten minutes now, a lot longer than Cas would have expected, but he can see Dean grow bored with everything. 

He lets go of his Grandpa's hand to explore one of the princess towers – it's the shorter one that you access with steps, not the bigger one that you get to by rope ladder – but he turns around quickly and makes some sort of grunted noise at his Grandpa. He sounds confused. 

“Well I can't come with you squirt. This playground ain't meant for Grandpas.”

Dean doesn't look inclined to accept that answer and Henry picks up on that. 

“Here. How about Grandpa stands over here, huh?” he ducks under the bridge and walks to the other side of the tower where a little window overlooks. “Now when you get up there you can look down and see Grandpa, right?”

Dean doesn't answer, and instead gets to the bottom of the stairs and lowers himself to start crawling up. 

“There you go Dean! Making your Papa so proud!”

Cas smiles and shakes his head as he tosses the Dean snacks back into the diaper bag. He's gonna eat all of them if he isn't careful. 

“Well hello there!” Henry says, and Cas looks up to see Dean standing at the top of the tower. Dean has his hands on the ledge of the window and is using it to steady himself as he bounces and smiles at his Grandpa through the window. 

“You're up pretty high there Prince Dean.”

Dean seemed to share in his Grandpa's sentiment as he holds his arms out at him through the window. Henry decides to take pity on the small boy and picks him up and pulls him through. If Dean were any bigger he wouldn't fit, but with how itty bitty their baby boy was Dean fit through easily. Henry popped him onto his hip and walks them around the playground. When they come around the side Henry sets Dean down on the small pebbles so Dean can walk on his own and the little boy takes one step before he smacks to the ground face first. 

Figures. 

Ten minutes of running around on a bridge and he trips when he goes to walk on stable ground. 

It isn't the first time Dean's fallen on his face before. These last few weeks Dean's been walking more and more, and while he's been getting his practice in his legs every once in a while go drunk on him and he'll fold to the floor. 

This time is a little different though, as Dean lands on a small pile of tree bark that scuffs up his little face and hands. 

Dean starts howling almost right away. 

“Oh. C'mere.”

Henry plucks Dean off the ground and tries to cuddle him but Dean isn't going for it. He has an owie and Grandpa just isn't going to cut it. 

“Henry bring him here,” Cas says. 

Break time is over for Papa. He's being pulled from the bench. 

Henry brings over a squirrelly Dean who's trying to fling himself into his Papa's arms. Henry holds him out and Cas grabs him and holds him to his chest. He gives Dean a great big comforting squeeze, muttering soft coos to calm him.

Dean's blubbering around his pacifier and Cas pulls him back to spy his little face. Tears are streaking down his chubby little cheeks, and there's a decent sized red mark between his eyes at the center of his forehead where he smacked the ground. There are some small areas on his forehead and nose where the skin is broken, but nothing is bleeding. It probably just burns a little bit more than anything.

“Oh, did my little Cherry bonk his head?”

Dean's crying too hard to be coherent, but he can tell the little boy is trying to say yes. 

“You'll be okay my sweet babe. Papa's here to make all the ouchies go away.” Cas presses kisses to Dean's forehead and nose, and while usually that would at least spark some kind of smile or giggle from the boy all he gets this time is sniffles. His poor babe. 

Dean's good mood looks to be shot, and that's the worst. Things have been stressful, and while the worst of it is over Cas is still injured and Dean's regular routine hasn't completely returned. A consistently smiley Dean is rare to come by these days, as something usually sets him off - it's typically been grouchiness, but today's trigger is an owie – and Cas is upset to see Dean's tears return. He wishes he could snap his fingers and fix himself. Make everything right so they can go back to morning his with Dean, breakfast on the couch to the weather channel, errands throughout the day and family and friends time when Sam comes home from work. 

Cas wraps his good arm around Dean's back and cups the boy's head, cuddling him to his chest. It might be time for Cas to fly the white flag. 

However, as Cas was pondering his poor parenting while snuggling his sour boy his father in law was thinking up ways to get Dean's smile back in full force. 

“Well. This simply won't do, Dean. It just won't do.” Henry it's using a tone of voice Cas had only heard a few times, and Dean never. 

It's his mock 'upset ' voice. And he only ever uses it when he's about to do something funny. The first time Cas heard it was when Henry toasted him and Sam on their wedding day. Preluding your wedding toast to your son and his husband with “this it's complete and utter bullshit” isn't something that most people would have the nerve for, but Henry wasn't your typical proud father. 

Henry had started that toast with this dead glare at the newly married couple, his tone furious and eyes hard. Sam had looked amused almost immediately, while Cas had prepared himself for a public display of humiliation. 

But when Henry had followed that up with _“Mary just informed me that we won't be doing the parent and groom dances, which is a load of crap. I've been looking forward to hitting the dance floor with my son in law for months and you two jackasses aren't going to spoil the moment for me. So get your as down here Castiel. This is happening.”_

Well. After that was when Cas had officially accepted Henry and Mary as mom and Dad. But still, Cas was used to Henry's mock angry tone. Dean wasn't. 

Instead of ruining the surprise Cas just handed Dean over when Henry reaches for him. It would be fun for Dean to learn that his Grandpa was a big old goof-ball.

“Alright. C'mon Dean. We gotta fix this.” Henry starts walking away from where Cas sits, and he punctuates his statement with a heavy sigh as if whatever is 'wrong ' is an inconvenience to him. 

Dean shoots an uncertain look to Cas over Henry's shoulder and he squirms around. Henry's tone may have subdued him a little bit, but he's still upset and wants his Papa. A few fresh tears fall down Dean's face – they're the _woe is me_ tears and no longer the _Dean is hurt_ tears, he can be a bit of a drama queen – and Henry wipes them away. 

Cas sees Dean stare up at his Grandpa and how his little fist holds Grandpa's jacket a little harder. 

That's when Cas sees where Henry is going. He has the diaper bag over his shoulder and is hobbling along behind the duo, and he can't keep the smile off his face when Henry walks straight through the front door to the old time ice cream and candy shoppe next to the park. 

Cas hasn't been in a few months, but everything is just as he remembers. Walking into the store transports him to the nineteen fifties with the vintage décor and the classic juke music. The left wall is still filled with shelves containing gleaming glass jars of candies. The right still had the large beautiful wood bar with an original soda fountain where a dozen tubs of the best ice cream in the state beckons to be eaten. 

“I guess we'll just have to see if something sweet can brighten your day,” Henry says as he walks up to the display case. 

Cas smiles and steps up to view Dean's face. The boy's eyes are _wide_ and he's stopped crying and squirming. He's stopped sucking on his pacifier and a line of drool is making its way down his chin. Cas chuckles and wipes his face quick with a burp cloth. He suspects that Dean doesn't notice. 

That's when Cas notices the girl behind the counter. 

She's a local to the town. Curvy and gorgeous. Jean looks like an original to the shop as well. She's a feisty red head decked with a ribbon tied up in a bow in her hair and pearls hanging from her ears. She had on jeans and flats with a flowery blouse. She paints the perfect picture of a fifties housewife, but Cas knows she's the kind of woman who can do anything she sets her mind to. The shop is hers. Has been for five years. She started it when she was twenty. 

She makes Cas think of a saying he heard once years ago. “Just because I'm a woman it doesn't mean I'm helpless. Even if my nails are drying I can still pull the trigger on a gun.”

The saying fit her in so many ways. 

She graduated a few years behind Sam in school and attends church with Henry and Mary every Sunday, so Cas would like to say that he knows her pretty well. 

“Cassie? Jesus Christ. I haven't seen your beautiful face in forever. I need a hug.” 

She makes her way around the counter and bypasses Henry to wrap her arms around Cas. She makes no comment on his injuries so he assumes that he's been brought up to the congregation by Henry and Mary at least once. 

“Jean. It's good to see you.” He throws his arm around her waist and tries to reciprocate her gentle squeeze. She always hugs like it's the last time she's ever going to see you. 

When she pulls away she smacks Cas’ good arm. 

“Why the hell did you have to go and get shot? When Mary brought it up at church on Sunday I thought I was going to pass out.”

“It was for a good reason. Y'see Dean here -,” Cas gestures to his son and that's all he can get out as Jean squeals. 

“How did I walk past you! Oh my God if you aren't the cutest baby I've ever seen. Henry give him here, quit hogging the cute.”

Jean bats away Henry's hands and scoops Dean up. 

“Well hello there cutie!”

Dean looks in shock. Cas doesn't think Dean was prepared to be fawned over for a second time today. 

“What has you upset huh?” Jean asks as she wipes away Dean's tears. A few stragglers had managed to detach themselves from his eyelashes and roll down his cheeks. 

“He had a fall at the playground, and I think he needs a but if ice cream to feel better. Right Dean?”

Dean nods quickly to his Grandpa's assessment. He isn't about to give up ice cream. 

“Is that so?” Jean walks being the counter and Dean is still on her hip. Cas has to laugh. It seems that everyone is trying to steal his son today. 

“I think I know just what Dean would like,” she sets Dean on the food prep counter behind the bar and Cas finds himself a seat so he can watch. 

He kind of feels like he's getting a bunch of free babysitting today. 

“Does anyone wasn't to share a worm dirt sundae with Dean?”

Henry shakes his head. “Nah. I'll just need some licorice for Mary.”

“Cas?”

“No thank you. I'll just need a pint of cookie dough and some gummy bears for Sam. 

“Okay. One mini sundae coming up.”

Jean sets about making the world’s smallest sundae for Dean. And he's glad that Jean knows to not make it too big. Cas could already tell Dean was going to try gobbling the while thing up anyway. 

She makes a super small scoop of the superman ice cream. The rainbow swirled ice cream that tasted like fruit. It was a favorite among kids and had been Cas’ favorite when he was young. 

After that she crushed up half an Oreo for the “dirt” and cut off half a gummy worm as the garnish. 

“There you are. One worm dirt sundae.”

She passed the treat over the counter and hands Dean to Henry who took up a bar stool next to Cas. 

“You feed him and I'll get your other items. 

Cas grabs Dean's ice cream and looks to the little boy. 

“Wow Dean. Doesn't this look good?”

 

He nods. 

“Can you tell Jean thank you?”

Dean garbles something, but he's to busy pulling out his pacifier in preparation for ice cream to put to much effort into it. 

“Well you're welcome sweetheart.”

She walks of to collect their things and Cas scoops up a small bite of ice cream for Dean. Cas barely has to move the spoon as Dean is already leaning forward to get it in his mouth. 

Cas can't keep the smile off his face as he watches Dean eat. He's started developing this very babyish way of eating. He rolls his tongue and lips first as he eats instead of moving his jaw up and down like someone with proper eating etiquette. 

It's ridiculously cute and Cas can't help himself from crooning over his little boy. 

The sundae is finished quickly. It was small to begin with, but with Cas eating two decent bites while Henry got Dean to look away it was finished relatively soon and Cas wasn't in fear of a ruined appetite for Dean. 

“Thank you so much Jean. That was just what Dean needed I think,” Cas says as he passes the bowl over to the woman. 

“You are very welcome,” she says passing their items over the counter. She had rung them up as Cas gobbled up the gummy worm, smacking his lips and pressing them over Dean's face to get the little boy to squeak with laughter. 

“You and Sam best be coming to the potato tent fundraiser this fall. I'm selling frozen pies that are perfect for thanksgiving, and I would love to see little Dean again.”

She's talking about the booth that the church has at a local orchard from September through November. They sell loaded baked potatoes to raise money for the Christmas shopping they do for poverty stricken families in the area.

Cas and Sam have helped out before, they might do it again this year. It's a lot of fun despite the fact that it's an hour car ride from their house to spend the day in a vinyl tent on a forty degree day selling potatoes and getting steam burn from nacho cheese vats. 

He thinks it's due to the company, the cheery faced people that make up the volunteers and customers, that the orchard feels straight from the eighteen hundreds, how everything smells like apples and donuts and the fact that Sam always gets sappy and handsy, _“Just warming him up”_ that Cas likes it so much. 

He hadn't even thought about fall. How they could dress Dean up is cute sweaters and hats and take him out to pick pumpkins and go for hay rides. He's already thinking of what he'll dress Dean up for Halloween before he catches himself and has to give himself a reality check that the school year hadn't started yet despite the unseasonably cool day. 

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

They say their goodbyes to Jean and head outside to their car. 

They're halfway there when Henry breaks the silence. 

“I don't think someone is going to hold on long enough for pancakes.”

Cas turns to spy Dean, who it's lying his head across Henry's shoulder. His eyes are open, barely, and he's playing with the hairs on his own head. Cas can tell he's going to be out for the count when he is put in the car seat, and he doesn't want to interrupt a nap like that. 

Truthfully Cas isn't surprised Dean is tired. It's been an eventful day for the boy.

But Cas can also see that Dean's upset at the prospect of missing out on his promises pancakes. 

“Do you and Mary have plans for dinner?”

“No, we don't.”

“Would you like to come over? We can do breakfast.”

Dean and Henry smile. And despite the biological link you can tell that they're family. 

“I think that sounds wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I apologize for weird mistakes. I'm still doing things from my phone these days - new computer is in the works - and it likes to 'correct' me. It's also why my comment replies have been slow. 
> 
> Replying from a mobile is more awkward than bringing a hooker to church.


	28. Pancakes and Cinnamon rolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> I finally got my computer in! Yay! So no more crazy phone chapters for me! 
> 
> And fyi on this chapter: Sam really, really wanted to have sex with Cas, so you can pretty much guess what happens at the end, however, _I_ wasn't in the mood for it when Sam started, so I may have waffled out of that scene. So there are no sex scenes for you to ignore if that isn't your cup of tea. However, for those of you who would really like to see a sex scene, let me know. If the response is good I'll include it at the beginning of the next chapter with a warning for those who would rather skip it.
> 
> Thanks guys!

The house smells like his mother's cinnamon rolls. Sam saw his parent's car outside, so he knows who has taken over his kitchen, but what he can't figure out is why his mom is making cinnamon rolls at his house in the first place.

Sam dumps his stuff ontop of the dryer including his breifcase and empty coffee thermos from that morning. It's a habit that Cas has yet to break him from. _Sam_ considers there to be improvements as far as the coffee thermos is concerned. He used to always forget them in his car, mostly empty save for the last mouthful which would dry out and mold after sitting untouched in the backseat footwells for a few weeks, until either his husband would pester him into cleaning out his car or the kitchen cabinet would run out of thermoses. Whichever came first.

He's too preoccupied to think of what a good husband he is as he follows the smells of cinnamons rolls and the sounds of Carrie Underwood into the kitchen. 

Unsurprisingly he found Mary hovering over the stove, Dean on her hip as she spread icing over a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls.

"Hey Mom, what are you doing here?" he greets, pressing a kiss to Dean's head, but making no attempt to move the babe from her hip. 

"Oh, hey honey," she offers her cheek and Sam plants a kiss there as well.

"It seems that your father promised a certain rugrat pancakes for lunch, and then said rugrat fell asleep before he could get those pancakes."

"So breakfast for dinner?"

"Yep."

"Awesome."

"Your husband is lying down on the couch, can you go and check up on him?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with him?"

"I think he was feeling a little queasy earlier."

Sam frowns and runs his fingers through Dean's hair quick before he walks into the living room, Cas is propped up on a few pillows with a damp hand towel folded over his eyes. 

Sam puts his hands on the back of the couch and leans over to press a kiss to Cas' exposed nose. 

Cas hums happily as Sam pulls back.

"Hey."

"Hey," Sam reaches out and scritches his nails through Cas' hair. "Mom said you weren't feeling well."

"No. I got home from being out with Henry and Dean, and I just felt a little lightheaded, I had to have your Dad walk me to the couch."

"Did Dr. Sheppard check your head out?"

Cas hums as he tilts his head further into Sam's fingers. 

"He asked some questions."

"And what did he say?"

Cas offered up a half shrug, "S'normal."

"What about the queasiness? Is that normal?"

Cas releases a pent up sigh, "That's probably cause I didn’t have breakfast this morning," Cas pulled off the damp towel, and Sam could see the dark circles under his eyes; they stand out in perfect contrast to the milky white his face has become.

"Cas, you look like shit."

His husband rolls his eyes, "you hurt me."

"I'm serious Cas," Sam lowers himself so his tummy is resting across the back of the couch, it frees up his other arm so he can cup Cas' cheek. "I thought you were getting better."

He's not saying this to accuse - he honestly thought Cas had been improving.

"I did too, but I just think everything is catching up with me. I mean all of this stuff that's happened in the last five months? Adopting Dean? Bringing him home? The teething and the parties? Dean getting sick and now I end up injured and shot? Babe, I think it's all just hitting me at once and I'm just too tired to take it all on."

Cas' voice had started off so forceful and ended up so soft by the end of his short rant. Everything he was saying was true. It had been an extraordinarily tiring year and Cas' crashing reminded him of the end of each one of his semesters in college, where the stress would catch up with him and a week after the semester ended Sam would crash with a cold - a nasty cold - that would last upwards of three weeks. 

It made sense. It was just unfortunate that it had to hit Cas now. 

"What do you need me to do?"

Cas made a thoughtful noise and his good arm reached up to curl around Sam's wrist as Sam's fingers continued to run through his hair.

"Take me to the beach and bring me one of your mother's cinnamon rolls."

His bright blue eyes opened and he offered a sly smile. 

"Okay, I can do that," Sam ducked down and pressed a kiss to his husband's forehead before heading into the kitchen.

Mary had moved on from icing the cinnamon rolls and was dipping a spoon into a bowl of pancake batter and making small half-dollar sized pancakes.

Sam smiled at the sight of Dean still on her hip - it was incredible how the woman could do the most intensive tasks with one hand. It was a talent that Cas was slowly acquiring. 

He pulled out a plate and a fork and served up two cinnamon rolls for himself and Cas.

"Sweetheart, how is Cassie feeling?"

"He's okay. Say's he's hungry."

"So isn't Dean. Your father felt that a bottle and ice cream made a decent lunch. I had to make your little pork butt a half grilled cheese sandwich when I got here just to carry him over until dinner."

Sam had to chuckle at that. Over the past few years all Henry needed in a day was a fried egg, coffee and whiskey in order to make it to Mary's strict five o'clock dinner time. Dean had too much of an appetite to share Henry's trait. 

Speaking of: "Where is Dad?"

"He's out back fiddling with your lawnmower."

"Our lawnmower? Mom, we don't have a lawnmower, we have a lawn service, you know that."

Just as Sam is arguing with her though he hears the sound of - you guessed it - a lawnmower start up in the backyard.

"What did he do? Bring his own?"

Mary shoots him a look as opposed to answering and instead flips the small pancakes she's watching.

"He knows I'm twenty-eight, right?" 

Sam feels like the _"And I'm more than capable of taking care of my home"_ was implied.

"Sweetheart, go get your father a beer."

And now he's being dismissed like a child in his own home.

More amused than anything Sam retrieved the beverage for his father and trekked outside to deliver it. 

Henry was still going along the edges of the the yard, following the natural line of grass between the plot lines before he gets to the back and forth mowing.

Instead of walking out to meet his father Sam opts to stand on the bottom step leading off of the deck. It only takes a few minutes before Henry was driving by, and Sam held out the beer for him. 

All his Dad had to do was reach out his hand and scoop up the drink.

Sam received a small nod as a response; he watched his father drive off before he walked back inside with a small shake of his head. 

During his absence his mother had placed Dean in his high chair with a small pile of the half dollar pancakes, the little boy has a pancake in each hand - bites taken from both - and he's giggling from around a mouth rimmed with sticky syrup and - Nutella?

"Mom, do you really need to get him hyped up on sugar?"

He isn't really chastizing, he knows their maple syrup is the good natural stuff with no added sugar and he can see that the dollop of chocolate spread on the boy's plate is barely a spoonful. He's just saying something because he feels like it's his right as a parent. 

Mary brushes him off with a flick of her wrist, "he'll burn it off before bed. I still have our pancakes to make, when he's done with his pile I'm putting him down so we can dance, ain't that right Dean?"

Mary and Sam look to Dean who seems to busy opening and closing his sticky fists to pay them much mind. He does look up at them though an offers his sticky hand, "Uh?"

"Are you Daddy's syrup monster?" Sam says as he turns to grab a warm, wet cloth to wipe his hand with. 

He knows that Dean's just bound to get more sticky as he continues to eat, but Dean doesn't look happy with syrup covered fingers. 

But before Sam can do so Mary is already running a dish rag over Dean's little fingers and his face, de-stickifying everything so that Dean can go back to smearing his hand in syrup and chocolate. 

"Sam honey, quit hovering and go feed Cas, I've got the baby."

Sam has officially lost responsibility of his son, his kitchen and his lawn for the night.

He retrieves the cinnamon rolls from where he left them on the breakfast bar, his mom was kind enough to include two coffee mugs of her warmed and honeyed milk to wash the food down.

At least he still gets his husband. 

Cas is exactly where he left him, stretched out on the couch looking a little weary for wear. 

He's struggling with his boot one handed though in his attempt to take it off. 

Sam sets the drinks and plate down on the coffee table before he undoes the velcro straps and pulls the boot off. He discards it next to the couch and pulls his husbands legs up so that Sam can sit down on the end of the couch with Cas' feet in his lap.

"How is your ankle?"

In everything that has gone on Sam has occasionally forgotten about the lesser of Cas' injuries. The sprained ankle wasn't a huge ordeal, Cas was still able to walk - albeit awkwardly - and it never seemed to bother him as much as the concussion or shoulder wound did, but it was still Sam's duty as a loving husband to make sure that Cas was comfortable.

"It's fine. It twinges a bit when I'm sitting down; it's still a bit sore though."

"What did Dr. Sheppard say?"

"That's normal too. Said he'd like to see me wear it for at least two more weeks."

"Really? But if it's feeling better shouldn't you be able to take the boot off?"

"He said I could, but he highly advised against it. He said that even though it's feeling better that there is still healing going on, and that if I take off the boot and start walking on it bare too soon that my ankle might retain some swelling and tenderness for a few months longer than if I left it on."

"Oh. Well that doesn't sound fun."

"No. So I'll keep it on. I talked to him about our vacation and he said that for the beach he felt that I could take it off, to keep sand out of it, y'know?"

"Mhm." Sam reached forward and grabbed the plate to place it on Cas' belly and handed his husband a fork. 

"He gave me a compression wrap to pull over it for while we're on the beach, but it's _beach only_ , I've got to wear the boot the rest of the time."

Sam cut off a bite of cinnamon roll for himself, "that seems reasonable."

"Yeah, it's good news." Cas cut off his own bite, "just wish I didn't need it at all."

Sam gave a gentle squeeze to Cas' sprained ankle, and Cas responded with a groan.

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry Cassie! I didn't -"

"That felt amazing," Cas interrupted him, "can you rub my ankle some more? Not hard, that just felt really good."

Sam smiled, happy that there was finally something that he could do to help his husband feel better.

"Of course."

They sit quietly on the couch eating their cinnamon rolls, Sam's free hand pressing softly into Cas' still slightly swollen ankle. Cas is humming, but if it's due to the cinnamon rolls or Sam's massage, he isn't sure.

Just as Sam is sucking the last bit of icing off of his fork his Mom comes into the living room to grab them. 

"C'mon boys, dinner is ready. I've got pancakes, sausage and eggs in the dinning room," she slips away toward the backdoor, likely to call Henry. 

Sam grabs Cas' feet and moves them so he can get off of the couch.

"Help me get my boot on?"

"I've got a better idea."

Sam swoops down over the couch and shoves his arms behind Cas' knees and shoulders, his husband lets out a yelp as Sam hoists him off the cushions.

"Sam!"

Sam's already walking them to the dinning room, where it sits tucked unnoticed between the family room and the garage opposite the kitchen.

"What? This way you don't have to wear your boot."

Cas rolls his eyes, but throws his good arm around Sam's neck.

The dinning room is indeed set, a large stack of pancakes sits center of the table, golden and brown as if it's a proud Thanksgiving day turkey and not the dinner of a silly little boy. Mary's gone all out, and in addition to the greatly awaited pancakes are a side dish of sausage links, a small bowl of what looks to be Mary's cheesey diced potatoes, the pan of cinnamon rolls - minus two - a plate of scrambled and fried eggs, the carafe of coffee, the jug of orange juice, and of course a plate of toast.

"Wow, quite the spread."

Sam had paused at the initial sight of food, but then crossed quickly to deposit Cas in a chair next to Dean before he could accidentally hurt someone. 

Mary had moved Dean's highchair into the room. He seemed to be out of pancakes, but he was greedily sucking down a bottle of orange juice. 

Sam doesn't doubt that Dean has ignored his thirst in favor of gobbling down every savory treat his mother has placed in front of him.

Upon spying his daddies though Dean pulls the nipple from his mouth, the resounding suction sound grabbing Sam's attention as Dean takes a deep breath.

"AhDah?"

"Yep, Papa and Daddy are here Monkey. You didn't miss us too much with Grandma around, did you?"

"No."

Sam chuckles as he pours drinks for himself and Cas.

"You never did tell me what you guys did after seeing Dr. Sheppard, did I hear something about ice cream?"

Cas has a link of sausage on his plate, and he's working to cut it into tiny pieces for Dean as he answers.

"You did. We were getting ready to leave and Dean seemed prepared to stay with Dr. Sheppard all day."

"Yeah?" Sam reaches forward and places his thumb at one end of the link on Cas' plate to hold it still as Cas cuts.

"Thanks. And yeah, Doc Shep was holding him the entire appointment, I think Dean really liked him. When Henry and I were walking up to the waiting room Dean was waving goodbye like he wasn't coming with us."

Mary had walked in during Cas' explanation, both her and Sam shared a laugh picturing Dean's actions.

"How did you get him to come with you without upsetting him."

Cas had finished cutting the sausage and tipped his plate over Dean's tray as he answered, "Henry may have said something about pancakes."

Sam rolls his eyes as he sits and begins pulling things onto his plate, "Figures. You can always motivate Dean with food."

The little boy in question starts humming happily as he grabs bits of sausage to shove in his mouth, there's a plastic fork sitting on the high chair as well, but Dean is clearly ignoring it in favor of making his dinner into a finger food. 

"So how did you end up getting ice cream instead of pancakes?"

Sam, Mary and Cas all had food on their plates, and had started eating as Cas added small bits of egg and toast to Dean's plate. 

"Your Dad drove us out to that playground by the church and Dean smucked his face on the ground. He was crying so Henry brought him into the ice cream shoppe."

"Oh! I haven't been there in forever! Did you get -"

"Your gummi worms and ice cream? Of course."

"I love you," Sam kisses the corner of Cas' lips and licks away the small bit of syrup that he tastes. Cas rolls his eyes and he drops a spoonful of the cheesey diced potatoes to Dean's tray.

"Was Jean there?" That's Mary, and how Sam forgot about his old high school classmate he isn't sure. 

"Yeah, she looks good. She brought up the church fundraiser this Fall, said she wanted to see Dean again."

"Oh, that'll be fun," Sam agrees, they _should_ take Dean out to the orchard this Fall. "Dean will love the apple picking and the little petting zoo."

Cas scoffs, "Dean will love the _donuts_ , he'll tolerate everything else."

Sam agrees, Dean will _love_ the apple cider donuts.

"So Sam, Cas tells me that you were planning on taking a vacation soon, where are you boys headed?"

Sam swallows a bite of sausage and answers, "Bahamas. We figure it'll be a warm enough place for the two of us, and there's some things specifically designed for little kids, so Dean'll like it too."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful. When are you going? Not too soon I hope?"

"No, we've been planning it for a while. It's a treat after closing that one case I've been working on for a few months." His parents don't know the specifics like Cas does, Sam likes to keep private information as private as possible, and while he loves his Mom the woman can dish a lot of dirt when it comes time to drink coffee with her church ladies. 

"Well that's good news."

"Yeah, and we're hopefully leaving in a week or so. I still need to reserve our room and get us plane tickets to get down there, we've been waiting on Cas to get the all clear to travel, so now that we have it I'm going to get in touch with our travel agent and have her set up a room and flight time."

"When you two are gone would you like your father and I to take in your mail for you?"

"That would be wonderful."

They're all about halfway done with their dinner and Henry hasn't surfaced from the backyard. No one is too concerned, he was told about dinner, if he misses out then that's on him. Cause in any household where Mary is serving dinner the announcement that dinner is finished means that Mary is going to eat. 

Sam has heard her say plenty of times before that _"I work my butt off to make you food, and I'm supposed to wait to eat it? I don’t think so, not in my kitchen."_

Mary prefers her food warm, Henry prefers his in front of the TV, so it works. 

Sam has lost count of the number of times Cas has added a bit of food to Dean's tray, but finally the endless belt of food making its way into his mouth has lessened. Dean usually has a pretty healthy appetite, but he's eaten a lot just now at the table, and that's in addition to the half grilled cheese sandwhich and half-dollar pancakes he had earlier.

Their little porker sure was hungry.

Mary is the first one to finish, so she tops off her coffee cup and sips at it as she watches the three boys eat. 

That's when Henry makes his appearance. 

The sliding glass door opens and Henry stomps his way into the dining room. Stray grass shards are sprinkled over his shirt and face, and when he rolls his shoulders and dislodges a few of the blades Sam has to just shake his head. 

He'll sweep up later before Cas gets it in his head that he has to.

"Finished your yard," Henry says as he dumps the rest of the sausage and potatoes on his plate. 

He says it like Sam had asked him to in the first place. 

He responds with a "thanks Dad," cause any other response will lead to an argument.

"You've got crab grass."

"The lawn service is spraying for it."

Henry shakes his head and forks some pancakes onto his plate.

"Mary, we got sugar for this coffee?"

"It's right in front of you dear."

Henry cuts a bite of pancake and forks the stack of pancake squares along with a cut of sausage. He considers Dean as he holds his fork in front of his mouth.

"Did you hear that Dean?"

"Uh?"

"No? Are you sure? Listen harder."

The table goes quiet, and Sam stills his fork against his plate as they all listen, and - _there_ \- comes the barely perceptible sound of Henry's stomach growling.

"That's the tiger in my belly," Henry says to Dean - and Dean's eyes look wide, kind of a _"there's a_ what _in your tummy?"_ expression on his face. 

Henry pops the food into his mouth and smiles as he chews. Dean starts giggling, though Sam is pretty sure that he hadn't followed what his Grandpa had just said to him, and that he's just giggling because he thinks his Grandpa is being silly.

Sam is finished with his own food now, so he pours his own cup of coffee and watches the entertainment duo of Henry and Dean.

They aren't really doing much, Henry is just eating his dinner and saying a whole lotta "What do you think you're doing?" to Dean who just giggles around his sticky fingers. In all honesty there isn't anything explicitly funny about what either Henry or Dean is doing, the fact is that Sam just plain loves watching them. He wasn't sure he would ever get the chance to see his own child interact with his father. 

Now that Henry is at the table Cas and Sam have to rehash the conversation they'd already had with Mary about their upcoming vacation. In addition to Mary's offer to get their mail Henry declares that he'll keep an eye on their yard. 

Sam just shakes his head and pokes at the remaining food on his plate. 

They'll probably come home to find a new shrub recently planted in their yard, or some kind of hosta tucked into the existing vegetation. Whatever. 

As long as his Dad's overbearing only takes root outside, then Sam isn't going to complain. 

Dinner is rounding up as Henry finishes off the final fried egg. And they're just in time. Sam can see that he's about to lose one of his boys.

"Cassie, why don't you go upstairs and lie down? Mom and I can take care of the dishes and Dad can watch Dean."

Cas looks like he's about to fall asleep at the table. He may have had a cup of coffee, but Cas - like himself - tends to get sleepier if he drinks coffee at night. 

"Nah, I can help. Just bring the dishes over to the sink and I can load the dishwasher."

Cas makes to get out of the chair when Sam remembers that he isn't wearing his boot, the doctor said that Cas couldn't yet walk without it, right?

Sam blatantly stands from the chair and scoops Cas up bridal style.

"Sam! Damnit! I can walk! Put me down!"

"Mom, I'll be back in a minute," Sam says over Cas' arguing. 

He carries his "bride" upstairs to their bedroom and delicately sets him on the edge of the bed. 

Much like the first time Cas settled into his arms quickly, knowing that if he continued to squirm that Sam was likely to drop him. 

"Cas, you're dead on your feet. Call it a night. Please Baby?" Sam reaches out to brush his fingers through the older man's hair. "I worry about you."

Cas groans tiredly as he slips backwards onto the bed and away from Sam's fingers. 

"Can you help me take the sling off?"

"Is it supposed to come off?"

Cas has been pretty bad about slipping the sling off to sleep, even though he really isn't supposed to.

Cas just groans again. 

Sam ignores him and draws the covers over him - the bed hadn't been made, which was a good thing, as it meant that Cas hadn't made it that day.

He presses a kiss to Cas' forehead. 

"I'm not even sleepy," the older man whines as if he's a child and Sam is a parent enforcing a bedtime.

"I don't care, you're in bed for the night."

Cas starts grumbling something about overbearing husbands, but since Sam knows Cas will stay put he just walks out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

When he gets downstairs he can see his Dad sitting on the couch, Dean in his lap. Both males are staring at some movie playing on AMC, his Dad is holding the remote, while Dean has his hand wrapped around one of his feet. 

It's too cute.

Sam snaps a picture.

When he enters the kitchen his Mom is already loading the dishwasher, which means the dining room is already cleared. He joins her and silently starts working. 

After all the dishes are cleared up and Mary is dividing the remaining cinnamon rolls Sam turns to ask her a favor. 

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you and Dad a favor?"

"What's that sweetheart?" She has the cling-wrap out and is folding the edges over the plates - four cinnamon rolls were left, which means his parents are bringing home two. 

"I think Cas has been overdoing it during the day with Dean since there isn't anyone here to monitor him. Would you guys mind taking him tonight? Just so we can see what the extra rest does for Cas?"

"Oh honey, that's not a favor," Mary waves him off. "And we'd love to. I don't think your father wants to say goodbye just yet anyway."

"Yeah, neither do I."

Mary finishes up the plates and grabs one to put next to her purse. "Your father still has Dean's car seat in the back of our car, so why don't you go freshen up his diaper bag and grab whatever we'll need. I'll go change Dean and send your father out to the car."

Sam smiles, "thanks Mom."

Sam grabs Dean's discarded diaper bag and they both head out of the kitchen to complete their tasks, and Sam is halfway up the steps to Dean's nursery when he hears his mother, "My word Henry, letting Grandma's precious June bug watch that. C'mere sweet potato, let's get you changed."

In Dean's nursery Sam is sure to grab Dean's blanket, a pair of pj's - with a spare - several onesies for tomorrow - he isn't sure how long Dean will be with Grandma or what the activities will be - a pair of jeans, sweats, and shorts, Dean's socks and velcro shoes, extra pacifiers with clips, the rubber 'cage' ball Cas uses to distract Dean during diaper changes, and about six more diapers than Sam thinks his Mom will need. 

He isn't too worried though, he knows for a fact that his Mom has a lot of baby paraphernalia at their house already, so some of the things he's grabbing are just spares. 

For Cas' peace of mind Sam packs a smaller bag with a few of Dean's favorite toys, though if Henry is there he's certain Dean will be entertained. 

Having gathered everything he needs from the upstairs he goes back down - where Mary is kneeling on the floor, and is pressing raspberries into a certain little boy's feet if the giggles are any indication. 

He dashes into the kitchen to grab the rest of the items. Spare bottles, burp cloths, Dean's snacks, the protein milk they add to his bottles, their vial of children's Tylenol - just in case. He knows he's putting more into his son's diaper bag than necessary, but when he tells Cas that they're Dean free for the night that he wants to meet every one of his husband's questions of "Did you pack _such and such_ " with "Yes Cassie." 

So he's covering all of his bases. 

Just as he's zipping up all of Dean's things Mary comes strolling into the kitchen with Dean on her hip. 

"See Dean? Just as I told you, you get to spend the night at Grandma's house!"

Dean's smiling from behind his pacifier, excited at the fact that he gets to send more time with Grandma and Grandpa.

"I promise that Papa will come and get you in the morning. He might even join you for breakfast."

That isn't a half bad idea, if Sam gets ready early enough he can drop Cas off at his parents in the morning and work worry free with the knowledge that Cas is stranded and is forced under the supervision of his parents.

He's a genius.

However, Dean looks like he could care less as to when his parents are going to come and get him. Sam can read the thoughts circling in the little boy's head; he gets to stay at Grandma's and keep playing with Grandpa? He's in heaven.

Sam crosses the room and presses a big kiss to the back of Dean's pacifier, as well as one to his forehead. 

"You're going to be good for Grandma and Grandpa, right Monkey?"

Dean nods seriously.

Mary grabs her purse and the plate of cinnamon rolls from the counter.

"Where's Dad?" Sam's looking for someone to pass the 'Dean Supplies' off to.

"Oh, he said he was grabbing something important."

Henry walks into the kitchen at the tail end of Mary's statement. Sam can clearly see what Henry thought was the important thing for him to have.

"I got 'em," he says holding Raphael up like some prize, "we're good to go."

His Dad steps forward to take the bags from Sam, and Henry claps Sam's shoulder. "See you later boy."

Sam just rolls his eyes and kisses his Mom and his Dean one last time.

"Goodnight, see ya'll tomorrow."

He walks them through the front door and waits on the front porch until they're all loaded and his Dad is driving away.

Back in the house Sam is sure to double check that he has cleaned everything - even sweeping up the grass like he had wanted to - before he goes upstairs to check on his husband.

As he figured Cas isn't sleeping, he isn't even trying. He's propped up against some pillows on the headboard and he's holding his eReader. 

"Hey baby, your Dad still have Dean?" he asks, though his eyes never leave the screen so Sam knows he's distracted.

Sam licks his lips as he considers Cas' position on the bed. He's still under the covers, so Sam crosses the room and crawls into bed ducking his whole body under the sheets as he crawls along.

"Sam?" Cas doesn't understand what he's up to.

Sam reaches Cas' hips and he settles down with a hand over each hip bone as he nuzzles his face into the juncture of Cas' legs. 

"Sam!" Cas hiss-whispers. "Your parents are downstairs! Get off!"

"They're gone."

"Gone?"

"Took Dean too."

Sam doesn't hear a response from Cas for a moment.

"Oh - oh, well then, continue."

Sam hears Cas sigh above him as he wiggles a bit more to get comfortable while Sam goes back to pressing his face over Cas' slowly lengthening cock. 

"Yessir!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a sadder note:
> 
> I start classes back up on the 19th of this month :( 
> 
> (it's my final semester as an undergrad if you can believe it!! Masters classes in the spring! Whoo!) 
> 
> My class schedule isn't too horrible, but between work, school, and my work study I know I'm going to be busy, so while I can't promise super frequent, super lengthy updates, I can promise that I will always do my best. 
> 
> Once again thank you guys for being so very, very wonderful :)


	29. "Adult Time" (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies. 
> 
> Unfortunately this chapter is nothing but smut, not a lick of Dean. 
> 
> That wasn't the plan, I was hoping to have Dean in this chapter but I decided to post this segment since I have it done. 
> 
> I don't know when I'll get the next chapter out, as I've been suffering the same tummy troubles that pestered me this summer, and I'd rather get something out than nothing. 
> 
> So I deeply apologize to all of you who weren't waiting for a smut chapter. I know some of you were very enthusiastic about it though, and I like to try and reach everyone. 
> 
> I really hope that this chapter doesn't upset anyone, but at the same time ya'll have been positively wonderful at dealing with me and my weird problems. 
> 
>  
> 
> So if you were waiting for smut, enjoy. If you were waiting for Dean (who wasn't) I promise to do my best :)

Sam hasn't touched Cas this way since the altercation with John. For a long while he was too preoccupied with not only coming to terms with what had happened, but with the initial fear that lingered long past Cas' hospital stay.

His husband was injured and fragile, he was constantly forgetting things those first few days, and was too doped up to do much. 

Then the fear of Cas being in pain took root and stayed with him. He couldn't touch his husband when he was in fear of causing him harm.

Now though? Well, now that Sam had seen improvements in his husband, and was no longer in constant fear of putting undue pain onto Cas' injuries he was free to touch him as he wished. 

Instead of running his hands all over Cas' body however, he was using his free hands to hold his husband down in an effort to keep him from reinjuring himself during an untimely body thrust.

"Oh fffuck!"

Sam's ears were filled with the slick sounds that accompanies Cas' cock slurping in and out of his mouth, but he was of present enough mind to hear his husband cursing. 

The covers were fully off Sam by now, and not because Cas was trying to look at him, or any sexy reason like that. 

No. 

Sam had finished his crotch-nuzzling and pulled down the older man's pajama pants to gulp down his husband's dick and Cas had responded by jerking his body around so fantastically that he had put an unhealthy amount of pressure on his bad shoulder. This all led to a five minute time out so that Cas could catch his breath and Sam could be assured that he hadn't irreparably broken his husband.

Cas had just needed a few deep breaths and the palm of his hand to wipe away the few sudden tears before he was begging Sam to continue. 

Sam was all set to say no to his husband - he'd forced Cas into undressing before Steve in order to get washed up after coming home from the hospital because he couldn't handle the clenched teeth and hissing of pain as he assisted Cas in slipping the original sling off, so he certainly couldn't see his husband brought to tears _literal tears_ at his own hand. 

But the image Cas created was so pathetic. He was sprawled out in bed, hair unkempt, his shirt wrinkled and his pants pulled down enough to show his half-hard length poking from his soft sleep pants. His face was the real hard thing to say no to. Cas had his pleading face on. Eyes poised to cry, lip pouting _just so_. He looked like a sad little boy whose Daddy was telling him no.

Sam had to fucking cave. 

And he means _fucking_ cave.

"Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Oh, God yes!"

Sam has one hand cupped around Cas' jaw, it's there to hold him down, as the other holds onto his hip to do the same, and to put and end to Cas' random nattering Sam slips his thumb between Cas' open lips. 

It helps to put an end to Cas' sex babbling, which Sam loves, but sometimes he just finds himself wanting less talk more sex. 

Sam is a cave man. A stereotypical, hormone driven male when it comes to sex. He wants little talking, and much grunting. 

So when Cas' communication downgrades to the cave man level Sam is very happy. 

Cas' vocalizations now resonate as beautiful, breathy grunts, that keep pace with his breathing. 

Sam is hearing a lot of "mmm-uhh, mmm-uhh, mmm-uhh" coming from around his thumb. 

The cacophony is broken up when Cas' lips wrap around the digit tight and he sucks hard enough that Sam can feel the blood rush to the tip of his thumb. Though that isn't the only of Sam's digits to feel a sudden blood rush with each pull of Cas' lips. 

When the squirming of Cas' legs and the suction of his lips get to be too much Sam has to pop off. Releasing Cas with a wet squelch he's able to look down to Cas' hardened and reddened member. Cas is drawing in quick breaths as his head tips back down to the pillow. 

Sam can see how much energy this is taking out of his husband, even though he's a sitting down participant. 

He stands up and slips off his clothes. 

This will be good for him though, a bit of rejuvenating sex to make Cas feel better.

After undressing completely Sam moves to the foot of the bed and grabs at the ankles of Cas' pants. He's careful with Cas' bad foot, but otherwise he cleanly pulls of his husband's pants and boxers, balling them up and tossing them in the general direction of the bathroom.

Now though, they're running into a bit of a problem. 

Usually Sam would just dive in, stick a few fingers into Cas and get him loose enough that he could slip his dick in and start rutting. Cas would start off holding his own knees, until Sam had a free paw to wrap around them and hold them in place.

Can't really do that though, not only does Cas not have the extra arm that it will require, but they can't really put that kind of pressure on Cas' shoulder. 

Cas has propped himself up a little bit, and he's staring at his body and the bed as he considers the problem as well. 

"My side?" He offers up.

Sam frowns a bit, "your sling will get in the way."

It really will. If Cas lays on his good side it's going to poke off the bed and be infuriating to move around. 

"Then help me take it off - "

"Cas," Sam interrupts, he really doesn't want to have to explain to his husband's doctor how they injured Cas' shoulder because Sam was horny.

"Sam we'll tape my hand over my chest, I won't move it."

They're both standing there, twin erections on show, _trying_ to be adults about the situation, but Sam can definitely feel _"Little Sam"_ thinking with better clarity than _"Big Sam"_ is. 

"Fine."

Sam runs to the bathroom to grab medical tape from their kit while he hears Cas unbuckling his sling. This one is much easier for him to get off on his own. 

He comes back and Cas is attempting to work off his shirt with one arm. 

Sam wordlessly pulls it off the rest of the way and moves Cas' hand over his heart before he starts taping. He figures if he gets enough tape on to discourage movement then what he can do is lay Cas on his stomach, propped up on a few pillows to hold the arm in place, but to keep his shoulder free. 

It's the best solution he can come up with, he'll just have to trust Cas to let him know if something starts to hurt. 

Sam tapes Cas' arm up from wrist to elbow - he isn't letting that fucker move - and Cas humors him by not saying anything, or complaining about Sam going overboard.

"S'that feel good?"

Sam gives Cas' arm a gentle tug.

"Yeah. Feels secure. I don't think it's going anywhere."

"Okay," Sam tosses the tape aside and grabs the pillows from the headboard. He creates a small mound on his side of the bed - the one closest to the door - and instructs Cas to lie down on it so that his bad shoulder isn't touching anything, and that his arm is being held in a way where he won't move it.

Cas lays his body out gently, and the two of them make wordless adjustments so that Cas is comfortably naked and posed on the bed.

"Good?"

"Good."

"Okay, how about a safeword?"

"What?"

Sam shrugs, "you're tied up, sorta, and there's the potential for pain during sex, so I figure you could have a safeword."

"Sam I don't need a safeword."

"Yes you do, just pick something."

"Why?"

"Cause if I'm hurting you I'd like to know."

"Then I'll just tell you."

"But…"

"But what?"

"You jabber during sex."

Cas rolls his eyes.

"Just pick something you would never say in the heat of the moment."

"Like what? Grandma?"

"That works."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Sam crawls up the bed, "do you really see yourself saying 'Grandma' while in bed with me? Under any circumstances?"

"Got a point there."

Cas cuddles into the pillows as Sam frames his arms around the older man's body. 

Cas' skin has a healthy flush of warmth to it, curtesy of his arousal, and Sam takes a moment to drink in the beauty of Cas' back. 

Usually Cas is lying on this particular span of skin and Sam doesn't get the chance to admire it like he should. 

Sam balances himself on one hand, and uses the other to brush through Cas' hair, as his lips tickle across Cas' shoulders. 

With each soft touch, and gentle press of his lips Sam can feel Cas' tension draining. 

It feels so wonderful that Sam is able to make his husband feel good.

Sam drops down to his elbow, and uses that arm to fist into Cas' hair while he skims his other hand down the dips of Cas' spine, down the bed to the bottle of lube he had grabbed when he went for the tape.

It's easy enough for Sam to pop the lid and coat his fingers with the slick without breaking the loop of kissing he's applying to Cas' back. 

When Sam slips a finger between Cas' cheeks his husband makes a happy humming sound. 

Sam presses loving kisses up Cas' neck and nuzzles his nose into the back of the man's hairline as his finger skims around Cas' entrance, teasing him just a little bit before he decides to make the first breach.

Cas releases a delicious, needy little whine when Sam finally pushes his finger in. 

His husband's free, good, arm is curled around his back, so Cas is able to skim his fingers along the outside of Sam's thigh as he works on the initial stretch.

The connection feels good, and somehow more important to Sam than the miles of skin that he has already pressed against Cas' body. 

When Sam slips a second finger in along with the first he hears more gravel in Cas' voice. 

His breathing becomes breathier, his whines more pleasurable.

Sam finds himself falling into a hypnotizing rhythm of pumping and circling his fingers and kissing and nosing along Cas' back, shoulders and neck. He isn't sure how long he's been stuck in this loop, but he knows it's been long enough for sweat to build up over their skin, evidence of their prolonged arousal. And Sam feels like his erection has become a persistent, heavy weight resting between his legs. 

All it takes is one, breathy "Sam" to escape from Cas' lips for Sam to know that his husband is thoroughly prepared and Sam moves his fingers away. 

After that it's very quick for Sam to slip himself inside.

There's just the slightest hint of pressure, which suggests that Cas was just _this side_ of prepared and is feeling a delicious burn. The one that means if he sits a certain way tomorrow that he'll feel the soft ache as a reminder of what sex they were having tonight.

Cas and Sam are still lying at an angle on the bed, not quite on their sides, not quite on their stomachs. 

It's a wonderful place of in-between, where Sam has the momentum of the free air, and the comfort in knowing his weight rests on his own, and not Cas. 

Now that he's _in_ though, Sam throws away the tender side that has been nurturing Cas, and brings closer the caveman who wants to possess Cas.

He starts snapping his hips quickly, hammering and pumping quicker than a leg jittering up and down. 

The pace is a furious and cruel one to unleash on his husband, not only because it doesn't match up with the tempo of the foreplay, but because Sam knows Cas won't last long.

Sure enough Sam has only stabbed inside of Cas a few dozen times - his face now looming over Cas' cheek, one hand placed at the older man's hip, and the other arm curved around his husband's neck, where he can feel his breath fluttering out from his open lips - and he hears Cas whine and groan as he clenches his way through an orgasm.

Sam drops his face to Cas' neck and sucks dark marks into the salty skin until the tautness drains from Cas' body. 

He has slowed the pace to a gentle motion while Cas is experiencing his release, but as soon as Sam feels Cas take a relaxing breath he goes back to his quick, demanding pace, this time with the added bonus of his hand around Cas' half-erect penis.

It's warm and slick with the man's come, and Sam hears nothing but a litany of _"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."_ coming from his husband's mouth.

Sam is working hard to bring Cas off a second time in the span that it takes him to get off once. The sensation on Cas' dick right now has to be borderline _painful_ due to the sensitivity, but Sam just really wants that second orgasm on the scorecard. 

Cas' free arm is going crazy, slapping out and grasping everything within reach, and it even makes a decent connection with Sam's backside on a few occasions. 

It's Cas' really only method of participating at this time, since moving around too much or too aggressively could put undue pressure on his injury and make it worse, so Sam is doing his all to make up for Cas' involvement. 

Just as Sam feels his balls tightening in anticipation of release he hears Cas choking on air, he's having a hard time keeping his breathing steady as his arousal works to a peak for a second time in such a short period. 

He feels Cas' dick give a jerk and the man groans from low in his belly "Oh _fuck! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!"_

Sam watches, captivated, as Cas throws his head around. His breathing, squirming, and cries suggest the truth, the fact that Sam is practically ripping the orgasm from his husband - whether Cas wants to give it up or not.

When Cas comes down - _crashes_ is more like it - he ends up on the bed flat and even more drained than he had when he first laid down. 

Knowing that his husband is done for the night Sam pushes himself up and pumps _once, twice, three times_ and buries himself deep as he comes. 

Instead of pulling out and rolling away to breath heavily like he normally would, Sam shifts himself closer to Cas. He's careful as he slips his arms around Cas' waist and spoons up behind his back, his dick still safely inside of his husband as it softens. 

Sam nuzzles his face up to Cas' cheek and he can see the exhaustion breaking out over his face. 

That second orgasm really took a lot out of him, but in a good way. 

"How you feel?" Sam asks so as not to break the peace they're in.

Cas doesn't have the words, just a happy hum as he moves his cheek in offering for a kiss. 

Sam does just that, and presses his lips to Cas' cheek. The corner of his lips. The juncture of his eye.

He can tell just by the way his breathing is developing that Sam is about to lose Cas to sleep, so he carefully rolls them so they're properly on their sides so that he can reach up and lace his fingers with Cas' where it's taped up on his chest. 

"Love you."

Cas' response is a soft snore, and Sam hides his smile in the back of Cas' hair. 

He kisses his husband one last time before falling asleep himself.


	30. Dean the Snuggle Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean spends a lazy day with Grandma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> This chapter was supposed to come out about a week ago, but I ended up slamming my hand in a car door. Kind of made typing difficult for a long time. (As well as eating, taking notes, dressing, working...)
> 
> Anyway. This weekend was the first time I was really able to do anything, and since I was without homework I worked on getting it out! *Cheers!*
> 
> So - note for the chapter - if ya'll aren't smut fans, then skip the first section and start reading after the first *****'s. The first section isn't _smut_ but more or less _implied smut_. And don't worry. All of the information that happens there is given throughout the rest of the chapter :)
> 
> As always:
> 
> Read. Review. Enjoy :)

Cas woke up feeling incredibly light. 

Part of it had to do with the fact that he could feel Sam spooned warmly against his back, holding him close and keeping him from rolling over onto his stomach, and the other part was the post orgasm sleep.

His shoulder actually felt good for once, and didn't have that stingy, achy pain associated with keeping it locked up in a rigid position for hours on end. He could pin the thanks for that on the fact that the tape Sam had used to keep his arm immobilized during their rutting around had come undone, and his arm had fallen to the bed in a much more relaxed position. 

He smiled warmly and snuggled back into Sam's arm.

Cas could tell his husband was awake when the arm pulled him closer, and he could feel the point of Sam's nose nuzzling the back of his hairline. 

"Morning," he managed.

He got a grunt back in response. 

Cas lifted his leg and hooked his ankle about Sam's calf. He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself up in Sam's gigantic octopus arms and snuggle the day away. Maybe eat ice cream in bed and watch movies like they used to, back when their lives were simple - _boring_. Perhaps partake in a few more orgasms?

He was just releasing a sigh, thinking of all of the beautiful possibilities that the day held - none of which would come to fruition, seeing as Sam had work - as Sam lifted his head and sucked the lobe of Cas' ear into his mouth.

"Wha - umm? Sam?" Cas squirmed on top of the sheets.

"Yeah?" Sam sounded breathy.

Cas couldn't keep still as Sam moved his lips down the length of Cas' neck.

"Do-don't, uh. Work?"

Sam made a low, thoughtful noise as he pressed open mouth - _wet_ \- kisses along Cas' skin.

"Won't have to, if I call in sick."

"But -"

"I have interns Cassie. They're usually jumping at the chance to do work for the experience. The only reason I've been holding off is because this was a high stakes case. I already emailed Brady, told him to hand off my work to some interns. Said I wouldn't be back in the office for the next week."

"What?" 

Cas was having a hard time concentrating. He'd already woken up with morning wood, but Sam's efforts were making him fully hard and incapable of thought. He couldn't keep his hips from shifting and pumping, and it didn't help that Sam was slowly moving his hand down towards the naked span of his hip.

"Yep. Booked everything already. We leave Monday morning for Florida." Sam said all of this into Cas' skin, as he had refused to disconnect his lips.

"Oh, I fucking love you," Cas groaned into the pillow, though the sounds were muffled he knew Sam heard his words. 

He heard Sam happily hum as his hand skirted the curves of Cas' hipbones as he grabbed Cas in hand. No foreplay or anything. 

Sam started pumping his hand, and Cas began groaning into the pillow, thinking about all of the things they would have a chance to do that day. 

*****

Dean hummed happily along to Grama's song. 

They were in the kitchen and Grama was making breakfast, while listening to country songs on the radio, and though Dean was looking forward to Grama's yummy cooking once again, he was a bit preoccupied.

Granpa had woken him up a short while ago. Grama and Granpa had a crib in a spare room upstairs that Dean slept in. The basic principle was the same as his crib at home, but Grama and Granpa's crib had something special to it. 

Dean was pretty sure the "something special" was Grama and Granpa magic, cause it was the most comfortable thing Dean's ever been on. The mattress has this thickness to it, that reminds him of what it's like sitting with Granpa watching TV - _Rockford Files_ was on last night, and Grama hadn't liked Dean watching the show one bit - and the quilts in the crib smell like Grama so much that he swears it's like snuggling with her. 

Whenever he's put in the thing he's out like a fucking light, and he ends up sleeping like a stereotypical baby. 

After Granpa had woke him up they sat in the living room for a while. Granpa was sipping a cup of black coffee and scritching at Dean's back through his sleeper as he worked on waking up on Granpa's chest. 

He's pretty sure he would have fallen back asleep if it hadn't been for Granma coming to collect him. She had a small bottle of apple juice for him and a toy, which is what he was currently playing with. 

She laid out a blanket in the corner of the kitchen and placed what looked like a metal cookie sheet in the center. Then she dumped out a huge fucking box of wooden magnets and showed Dean how they stuck to the sheet. She put Dean - and Raphael - down on the blanket before walking off to work on breakfast. 

It was a lot of fun, weirdly enough. 

He was holding hands with Raphael - cause they were buddies, and friends could do that stuff - and they were playing racecars. There was a decent collection of car magnets in the pile Granma had left, and both he and Raphael had picked cars to be. 

They were racing around in the clouds that were on the sheet - though there was a flower he had to drive around, he figured it must be a sunflower - and Dean was currently winning. It didn't take much to beat Raphael though. Poor guy wasn't very good at the game, and Dean had to pause every now and then to let the guy catch up. 

He liked Raphael, really, but he was such a slow guy. Really kind of lazy. All he seemed to want to do was sprawl out over things and sleep.

He had a sneaking suspicion that his turtle companion was part cat. 

The phone in the kitchen rang and Dean looked up to see Grama pick it up and greet the person on the other end.

"Oh hey, Sammy-Sweetheart."

Dean fiddled with the ring of his pacifier as he listened to Grama's part of the conversation.

"Okay. Uh-huh. He's doing real well. Yeah. Okay, yeah that's fine honey. You and Cas can come and pick him up whenever you like, and don't you worry. You packed more than enough for my little caterpillar.

Dean giggled. 

Grama had such silly nicknames.

"Of course. Now you take care of that boy, you hear me? Good. Good. Well he needs some pampering from his husband. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I love you too, sweetie. Yep. I'll kiss him for you, if you kiss Cas for me. Okay. Bye now."

She hangs up the phone with a smile on her face, and turns to face Dean with her hands on her hips. 

"Your daddies," she shakes her head as she steps forward and plucks Dean from the ground. "Your Daddy is playing hookie" - She says before placing a big _smooch_ into Dean's cheek. The kind that leaves behind unintentional spit - which Grama kindly wipes away with her thumb - "so that he can spend the day with your Papa."

She plops Dean back on the ground as she mumbles "Lord I hope they get out of bed at a decent time," and Dean can tell by the fond headshake that she wasn't implying sleeping. 

He tries to not think about it as he goes back to his magnets. 

Dean's half curious about the phone conversation. He isn't getting the whole story - mainly because he's a fucking infant and most people don't share their step by step plans with nine month olds - but he's picked up on the jist of things. His daddies aren't coming to get him soon. They're going to stay home and fuck like rabbits. 

Dean doesn't really give a damn what they're doing though. He gets more Grama time. 

And while he's sure that he's going to miss his daddies the second he sees them, he _isn't_ missing them now, so he intends to make the most of this Grama visit. 

Granpa comes in as Grama places a heap of pancakes at the center of the table, and they exchange a few words with each other. 

He has plans to go out to some auction with a few of his buddies and look at car parts, so it seems that Grama is planning a laid back day for the two of them. 

Dean's excited. Spending time with Grama and Granpa is great, but it felt like lately his batteries haven't been able to recharge. A lazy day with Grama will be all the rest he needs. 

"You want to put Dean in his chair?" He hears her say.

Granpa responds with a grunt, but instead of getting up to get Dean Granpa simply claps his hands together and whistles for Dean's attention.

"C'mere squirt."

"Henry! He isn't a dog!"

And while Dean agrees with Grama's sentiment he can't help but smile and crawl over to his Granpa's legs, wooden car magnet still in hand. When he reaches his Granpa's chair Dean drops the magnet and uses fists of the man's jeans to haul himself into a standing position. 

Big hands scoop him up and he's soon sitting on Granpa's lap, getting a good cuddle. 

"He ain't, but that don't mean Dean isn't a good boy," Granpa says with a bristly kiss to his brow. 

Dean smiles as he's strapped into his highchair. 

Grama sits down on Dean's other side, and she puts a small stack of pancakes onto Dean's tray. He snatches one up immediately as Granpa pulls out his stopper - he had forgotten the pacifier was still in there - as he goes to shove it into his mouth.

"He's hungry."

Dean coos out his agreement. He's always hungry.

"He's always hungry," Grama repeats his thoughts aloud as she squeezes out a dollop of nutella and syrup onto the tray. Dean's other hand immediately goes into that to squish it around. 

He continues to chew on his pancakes - and the odd bit of sausage dropped onto his tray - as he sucks on his syrup fingers. Opening and closing his fist to watch the stickiness of it. 

Grama and Granpa are enjoying a quiet breakfast. It seems like a quiet day outside though, cause even though it's early in the morning there are no sunrays to greet his face. It actually looks a bit gloomy and wet out. 

Perfect weather for sitting inside and doing nothing. 

Dean's just smeared a bit more syrup onto his hand, and he holds it out for Grama to see. His fingers feel a bit icky though, cause the syrup is drying, so he makes sure to let her know he doesn't like it.

"Uh?"

He's curling his sticky fingers.

"What's wrong sugar pie?"

He waves his little fingers about - he wants the sticky off. 

"Your fingers sticky?"

"No."

He's not disagreeing with her, he's expressing his dislike.

Sure enough she came to the table prepared, and it takes nothing at all for her to grab a towel she has waiting and to wipe most of the gunk off. 

"Better?"

He curls his fingers. He can still feel a little bit of stick in the creases between his fingers, but it's much better than before. Besides, he knows that she'll wash his hands for real once he's finished eating. 

Dean lets her know that he's good by taking his hand back - and promptly smashing it back into the temptation of the syrup mess. 

He can't help it. He's overcome with the intense desire to play with stickiness whenever the syrup is around. 

"My goodness, Dean. You're just a sticky little bug, aren't you?"

Dean smiles up at his Grama, displaying his little teeth and jerking his fist through the sticky trails of syrup. This syrup business if fun stuff. 

His grandparents are finished eating before he is, and soon Granpa is downing the last dredges of his morning coffee and pressing kisses onto Grama and him before he's grabbing his keys and heading out the door. 

"You have a fun day now," he says stepping out the back door. 

Dean watches him go, and he considers it progress that he's able to look at that section of the house without thinking about his Papa getting shot. 

He had a hard time being in the kitchen after the incident with John, but Grama had snuggled him lots whenever she made something on the stove, or made a pot of coffee. And eventually the icky, heavy feeling of being scared was replaced with the feeling of warm hugs when he was in Grama's kitchen again. 

Grama was washing up the dishes from breakfast as Dean finished the last bit of pancake on his plate. He was chewing more out of obligation than anything though - cause all of a sudden he was dead tired. Which was odd. He hadn't woke up any earlier than usual, and he slept really good the night before. 

Maybe it was the weather?

He heard a scoffing noise above him, and looked up to see Grama smiling down at him. 

"What's got you all tuckered out?"

Dean's yawning as she reaches to pull his little fist from his face. Right. He hadn't even noticed that he was smearing his syrup fingers all over himself. Hadn't even realized he was rubbing his eyes in the first place. 

He doesn't squirm away when she goes to wipe his face off, and that's when he really knows he's tired. Usually he doesn't like it when people attack his face. He likes being able to see. 

But he's sleepy. And he sends up a forlorn look up to his Grama in the hopes that she'll know why. 

"Lordy Bee," she says scooping him up, leaving the mess of his highchair tray behind, "I don't think your daddies realized that all three of you were heading for a crash."

Dean doesn't know what she's talking about, but he does like the sound of the word crash. That does mean sleep, right?

His eyes are closed as he rests his head on her shoulder, but he can tell she's gathering something in the kitchen before they head out to the living room. She's sitting down in the corner, in the old school rocking chair she has in the corner with all of her knitting stuff. 

She rearranges Dean so he's across her lap, his head tucked in the corner of her elbow. He opens his eyes a bit to look at her gather up a large blanket he's seen her working on before. She keeps saying it's his, and that she has to finish it before Christmas, but he thinks she's silly. It's big enough for both Daddy and Papa now. 

He doesn't say anything - obviously - and instead feels her begin to rock as she drapes the blanket about her. 

It's warm and cozy where he's curled up, and when his pacifier is pushed between his lips, he's incapable of doing anything other than fading out. 

*****

Dean wakes up on his belly. 

He can tell almost immediately that he's on the carpet and that his Grama is watching TV with the sound turned low. From the sounds of it he's assuming that it's Wheel of Fortune, and he can hear his Grama making her quiet guesses along with the show. 

He can hear a repetitive _whoosing_ sound, that lines right up with the rocking of Grama in her rocking chair.

Dean pushes himself up on his arms and looks over to his Grama. She's still rocking in her chair, and working on knitting his blanket. And Dean's struck with the sudden irrational feeling of rejection because he's no longer in her lap, cuddled and warmed and rocked as she works. 

It's a struggle for him to reign in his emotions. Cause he's well aware that it would have been difficult for her to work with a sleepy baby in her arms, but the bigger, more prominent aspect of his emotions has latched onto the fact that his Grama's arms are _empty_ and that he's been _left_ on the cold hard floor. 

He gives his Grama no indication that he's awake, and instead goes straight to crying. 

Dean slams his eyes shut and presses his face into the blanket as he bawls. 

He can hear his Grama start cooing from all the way over there in her chair. 

It takes her a short while, but soon enough Grama's hands are patiently scooping him up and holding him close. Grama is too practiced to let a few tears get her frazzled. 

"Is my sugar bean okay?" She's rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Dean rubs his face into her sweater. He's still crying and howling, and he doesn't know why anymore. His mood fluctuations have become so common place to him anymore that he's prepared for it when his breathing goes all out of whack and he starts swallowing air. 

What he isn't ready for is the sudden yucky feeling in his tummy. It feels a twisty, kind of like it does right before - 

Dean doesn't realize that he's spitting up until he's burping up his breakfast. Smearing the creamy, thick, milk-white substance onto Grama's front. 

He doesn't like that he's spit up _at all_ , and proceeds to wail even more. 

"Oh my goodness, goodness, goodness," Grama is saying as she walks them into the kitchen to fetch a dish rag. "Somebody got his tummy all worked up."

She's soothing as she wipes down Dean's face, and since he's still crying she throws the towel over the muck on her sweater and proceeds to walk around the first floor of the house. Bouncing Dean gently and humming a song that had played on the radio earlier. 

Dean's own cries are ringing in his ears, and his head feels all cotton-wooly. His eyes are all scratchy and puffy. His nose is wet and red. And his mouth tastes funny. All of this is working against his favor, and it takes a long time before Dean's calmed down. 

Soon he finds himself with his head resting on Grama's shoulder. One hand is curled tightly in the sleeve of her shirt, and the other is fisted and rests against the one eye that's peeking out. 

His breathing has steadied out and his tears have ended for now. As a bonus his stomach feels fine - he suspects his spit up was a result of his heavy crying - and now he's just craving snuggles and a bottle of juice. 

He feels Grama kiss his brow and pat his rear affectionately as she crouches down to set him on the carpet. 

When he realizes what she plans on doing Dean's back in action, grabbing onto hair and clothes and scrabbling up her shoulder. He curls his little legs up to avoid even the _possibility_ of touching the ground and shrieks out a clearly understood _"NO!_

He really kind of likes that word. 

"Okay. Okay." Grama seems a little more panicked as she's quick to wrap her arms around him and kiss his cheeks. "Grama won't put you down. I promise."

Dean wasn't even aware that he had grabbed a large chunk of her pretty blonde hair, until she worked her finger into his fist and made him release it. He felt kind of bad for his hair pulling, so he put his head back on her shoulder again. 

Grama took the stairs up to her and Granpa's bedroom. Dean knew she had to change her shirt, but she was all out of luck. Dean wasn't going down for a second. 

"Can Grama set you down for a minute, honey?"

"No!"

Dean goes to scramble up her shirt a second time, but Grama is prepared for him. She's got a hold of his hands and she's placing him on the bed before he can find purchase. 

Grama flops him down in the center on his back and - while he's momentarily distracted at how he bounces - he flips over and crawls toward the other side where she's already got the icky shirt off and she's got the new one in her hand. 

"Hold on, baby. Grama needs to change her shirt."

Dean crawls right up to the edge as Grama steps up to the side. Her thighs come flush with the mattress, so Dean grabs onto her belt loops and works on hoisting himself up. It's really difficult, since the leverage he's using is so low, and the bed is all wobbly, but he's able to stand up and press his tummy to hers, reaching his hands up toward her face and demanding that he be picked the fuck up. 

"Uh! Uh! Uh!"

"Goodness Dean, what has you so wound up today?"

The fuck if he knows. 

She takes entirely too long to dab at her undershirt with a hand towel before she's pulling the new shirt over her head. She even has the nerve to pull her long hair from the collar before she picks Dean back up. She's quick to give him kisses and to rub his back, but he makes sure to bury his face in her shoulder and throw his arms around her neck as best as he can. 

She's already put him down once, and he's wary of her doing so a second time. 

"You aren't going to let me put you down for a second, are you sugar pie?"

Dean can hear the teasing lilt to her voice, but he feels too sour to appreciate her attempts. Instead he just grumbles and latches on harder. 

"That's okay, my sweet babe. Grama won't put you down," she says this as they're entering the living room. 

Grama sits in her rocker and grabs the blanket once again, with Dean seated front and center in her lap. He plays with the ends of the blanket as it drapes across his legs and he's back to being content. 

She starts in on her knitting, and he listens patiently to the clicking of her needles and the soft sounds of her guessing the words and phrases on the TV. It's soothing, and where usually Dean would grow squirmy and irritable at being confined to sitting on someone's lap, today he's all for cuddling and rocking with his Grama. 

He isn't sure how much longer they sit and watch TV together, but eventually Dean feels Grama's tummy rumble at his back. 

"I think now is a good time for lunch, huh sweetheart?" she says as she gathers her things and deposits it all in her knitting basket. 

He nods as he curls into her and holds on about her neck. He's hoping lunch is something simple, cause he doesn't want Grama putting him down - he can barely stand the idea of being in his highchair, even with the promise of food. 

They walk into the kitchen, and Grama reaches onto the kitchen table to grab one of the bright, red apples she has sitting in a bowl. She takes a large bite out of it and then surprises the crap outta Dean by handing it to him. 

The apple itself isn't very big, and he's able to easily hold it in his hands. Now that he's developed some good teeth his daddies have let him eat things like apples, but usually it's all cut up into little pieces before it's given to him. The fact that Grama is trusting him with a whole friggin apple seems monumental. 

He turns the apple about in his hands until the place where Grama had taken the bite is facing him. Dean tries to sink his teeth into the fruit and ends up smashing it against his nose. He reloads and tries a second time, getting the fruit to his mouth, but only succeeding in _just_ grazing the skin with his teeth. 

Right. He'll have to aim for the softer stuff. 

It takes several tries, and the whole experience seems to be trial and error, but eventually Dean gets a big enough bite that requires chewing. 

By the time he's looking up to show Grama how proud she should be Dean finally notices that he's been put down, for a while if the sight before him is any indication. 

Grama is at her spot, with a salad and a sandwich, she's eating and watching him, smiling brightly at his efforts. Dean has a plate too. She heated up a few chicken nuggets for him and cut them into tiny pieces for him to eat. 

"You eating your apple?" she says now that he's looked up. 

She was probably worried that if she said anything sooner Dean would have noticed he wasn't being held anymore. A very logical fear, seeing as how Dean was acutely aware of the fact that he had been tricked into his highchair. He could forgive the woman, seeing as he had been gifted with the privilege of a whole apple. But she's a fool if she thinks he isn't going right back up after he's done eating. 

Dean ignores the chicken nuggets for now and works on his apple. Not because he likes fruit more, but because the apple is more of a challenge to eat. He didn't have to kill the chickens to make them into lunch, and though he's not picking the damn apple he does have to work for every bite he gets, and he feels a great sense of accomplishment every time there's a big enough of a bite for him to chew. 

Eventually he decides it's time to give up on his apple, but he's chewed through a good chunk of it, so it's not like he's giving up, and he drops the fruit onto his tray. 

It doesn't find a steady resting place and rolls off the side, but by that time Dean already has a chicken nugget piece in each hand, he doesn't care. 

He sees Grama bend over and grab the apple and she puts it on her empty plate. 

When did she finish eating?

Her chin is propped up on her hand and the soft smile on her face reveals that she's been quietly watching him this whole time. 

Dean's been concentrating too hard on eating to pay her much attention, but now that he's eating an easy food he wants to talk.

"Uh?"

"Did you like eating your apple?"

"Mmm."

"Was it tasty?"

He chomps out a response, he was shooting for _"it's big"_ , but Grama didn't quite catch the translation. 

"They are good, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

He stuffs his fingers into his mouth and eats another piece. He's almost out of chicken nuggets already, but he wants more. 

Dean points at his tray and grunts before holding out one hand, palm up.

"Do you want more?"

"Mmm."

"Well, you still have your bottle left mister. I'll let you have some crackers later if you need a snack."

He blows a spit bubble. 

Dean picks up the final pieces and crams them into his mouth. They're gone and swallowed long before he wants to be done eating, but Grama is already up and grabbing a bottle she had prepared on the counter. From the pink color he can tell it's the strawberry flavored milk, and that makes him happy. He prefers the strawberry one. 

He throws his hands up quickly and grunts until he's picked up.

"Diaper change, and then bottle. How does that sound?"

It sounds like Grama is drawing out this eating business to keep Dean from snacking on crackers, but she's delusional if she thinks Dean isn't going to want more food. 

But his Grama is paying him all sorts of attention, so he doesn't kick up an initial fuss when he finds himself on the floor, his naked butt being lifted into the air and wiped off. He had peed at some point that morning, and it had been a while since he'd been changed, so he was okay with the diaper change in theory, but he was also a little fussy that it wasn't coming on his terms. 

So when his Grama let his butt back down Dean started kicking and turning, trying to get out of the clean diaper she'd set him in. 

"Be still honey."

"No."

He grunted and twisted his hips. 

"Come now, be nice for Grama."

He was being nice for Grama - Grama just wasn't being nice back.

"No!"

"Are you turning into a cranky, rolly baby?"

Dean doesn't dignify that with a response, and instead focuses on flailing his legs like boat propellers, making it difficult for her to strap him into his diaper. 

When she has him all hooked in she pats his bare thighs and makes a show of wiping off her brow. He wasn't _that_ difficult. 

Grama goes about packing Dean's things back up and he immediately throws up a stink. 

She's left his onesie half on. It's still about his arms and neck, it's just remained unsnapped at the crotch and pulled up around his belly. He wants it on or off. None of this half bullshit. 

"Uh!" 

He's grunting and squirming as his hands reach for the hems. One hand works to pull the garment off, and the other holds it in place at his tummy. Even Dean is torn in what he wants 

He can hear his Grama chuckling at him and eventually she intervenes to pull the thing off. He isn't naked long before she's pulling out one of his spare sleepers and tucking him into it. 

This captures his attention, as it's only the afternoon and she's dressing him in sleepwear. 

"It's already been a lazy kind of day, might as well make it official," she says. Half to Dean and half to herself. 

When she has him all zipped in she playfully rolls him over on the carpet. Dean's now on his belly, facing away from her, so he crawls back around so he's facing where she's sitting on the floor - just for her to flip him again, so he's on his back, head closest to her ankles. 

He grunts this time as he rolls and crawls back towards her.

And she fucking flips him again - except this time she tickles his belly as she lays him down - and she pokes his nose. 

Dean giggles. And rolls back over to his Grama. 

They repeat this a few times until Dean finds he's too tired to roll over and crawl to her again. 

"You less squirmy now?"

Dean just stares at her upside down. 

"You want a bottle?"

Dean throws his arms above his head and kicks his feet while he grunts. He does want that fucking bottle. 

Grama grabs him and stands up, getting the bottle she'd left on the side table by Granpa's recliner. She juggles Dean and the bottle as she grabs a blanket and the remote and settles the two of them in her own recliner, facing the TV.

She gets them all orderly and holds up the bottle as she begins flipping through channels, trying to find something for him to watch. 

Eventually she settles on Nick Junior, with an episode of Dora the Explorer playing. Dean's seen the show a handful of times growing up, and while back at that time it had been a decision between Dora, the News, and Pay-Per-View Porn, this time he actually found himself being interested in the show.

Grama had them all wrapped up in a blanket, and she was holding a book for her to read, so Dean was in charge of his drink. Fortunately it's one of Grama's special ones - with a straw - so he's able to drink and watch TV at the same time. 

It isn't until Dora is counting out wood planks to make a bridge - how in the fuck she knows building codes and can manage construction tools is beyond him - when Dean is hit with the terrifying realization that he doesn't understand the numbers that she's counting. 

Sure, she's doing it in Spanish - _uno, dos, tres…_ \- but who doesn't know how to count to at least three in Spanish?

It's a horrific moment and he feels something akin to vertigo as his stomach drops from him. He understands the numbers, in that they're numbers, but he has no recollection of their measurement. He can no longer remember how many _uno_ is. 

He has to force himself to take a few deep breaths and remind himself that babies generally don't understand numbers, and that he's in fact a little ahead of the game. He sips at his milk and listens to Dora and Boots finish counting as the bridge magically makes itself. 

Not five minutes later Dean's giggling as Boots starts dancing on screen, and he's forgotten all about the fact that he can no longer count. 

Cause who wouldn't laugh at a dancing monkey?

It's at the end of the first episode of Dora - there's another episode lined up after this one - that Granpa calls on the cell phone. 

Grama seems only mildly interested in what he's saying, and it seems more like a routine phone call, updating Grama on his activities, than anything. Dean only half listens to the conversation, since Granpa's voice is clear enough through the phone to be heard, and he kind of zones out when he picks up on the fact that Granpa and his friends are going to go out for dinner before coming back for the after hours sale. Where all of the items that hadn't sold are offered at discounted prices. 

Dean never did get a confirmation on what kind of auction his Granpa was going to - but if his garage was anything to be suspect about then he could be pretty sure it was a "junk" auction. The kind of crap that most rational people would toss in the scrap pile were the exact kinds of things that people like his Grandpa would drool at over auctions. 

Instead of listening to his Granpa talk about the things he had seen - he hadn't even _bought_ anything - Dean kicked back on Grama's lap, making her readjust and curl her arm around him as he reclined himself. 

Grama only talked to him for a few minutes before the call ended, and she muttered out a quick "Granpa won't be back for dinner," in the way most people would say random things to their babies, before she's back to her book. 

Dean's out of milk by this point, so he lets the bottle roll away from him - which Grama snatches up and puts on the end table. 

He's kind of sleepy again, but he's determined to skip his afternoon nap since he fell asleep earlier in the morning. It's difficult though, since Grama is equally as determined to see him take a short nap. She started rocking the recliner a bit - it wasn't on the same level as the actual rocking chair, but Dean felt it nonetheless - and with the arm that she had curled around him she began rubbing his belly. 

Dean resets his resolve, and though his eyes flutter closed a few times he hasn't fallen completely asleep yet, so he's counting it as a victory. 

He's totally going to make it to dinner sans nap. 

*****

Dean is warm and cuddly. 

He thinks he's still on Grama's lap, opening his eyes while watching TV, but when he hears the whispering conversation between Grama and his daddies he knows he's fallen asleep. 

He sucks on his pacifier - which someone has pushed into his mouth since he zonked out - and curls more towards Daddy's chest. And it's totally Daddy, even without the tell of Papa's sling Dean would recognize one father from the other. Daddy runs warmer, by far, and the hand that's cupping his butt is too oversized to belong to his practically petite Papa. 

Dean snuffles and fists Daddy's shirt. 

He's a little irritated with himself over not making it through the day without a nap, but he's also excited that his daddies are back - he'll show his excitement as soon as he works on waking up. 

In the meantime though he feels like eavesdropping.

"All we really need is for you to take the mail in, Mom," That's Daddy, "I don't need you cleaning the house."

"Alright. I just figured I'd offer."

"Do you think you can keep Dad from completely redoing our lawn while we're away?" 

Daddy's mouth sounds full. Is there food in the vicinity? 

That perks Dean's interest.

"Honey. You know only God and Jesus have that kind of power."

Dean hears all three of them chuckle.

"Just try to reduce the damage, Mary." 

There's Papa. He sounds to be right by Dean's feet. 

Dean lifts his head and looks up at Daddy's face. The man is all smiles and dimples. His cheeks look full of color, and his eyes look brighter and clearer than he's seen them in a while. If Daddy looks this good after a day of rest then he can only imagine what Papa looks like. 

Dean lifts a hand to rub his eyes, and his movement garners his Daddy's attention.

"Well hey there Monkey. You finally waking up?" 

He helps Dean sit up and face the room, but cuddles him close enough that his cheek is resting on his Daddy's chest. 

"Oh sweetheart, you look so sleepy."

Dean looks over to his Papa, and the two males pause as they assess each other. 

If Daddy looks good, then Papa looks like the "After" model in the before and after shots for beauty products. Dean hasn't seen his Papa look so well rested and lively since before the accident. 

"You weren't kidding when you said Dean had a lazy day today, huh?" Daddy's large paw is carding through his hair, but Dean's still waking up and looking at his Papa. 

"Oh yeah. He was so clingy all day. Never wanted me to put him down. He took a nap after breakfast too, and whenever he was awake he was cuddled up on my lap."

Dean turns to look at Grama and that's when he spies what Daddy had been eating. Pizza!

He immediately reaches onto the kitchen table and snags the piece of pizza crust his Daddy had left on his plate. His daddies always get the kind with a garlic crust. Dean's happy to chew at Daddy's leftovers until he gets his own plate. 

Fortunately he doesn't have to wait long, and Daddy has a small piece cut up for him on his plate, so that Dean can feel himself. 

Dean's kind of hungry at this point, so he's pretty quick in feeding himself, which is good, cause apparently Papa and Daddy were getting ready to head back home. 

"Cassie, you want to grab Dean's things while I get him cleaned up?"

"Sure thing."

"I'll go with you Cas. Make sure you got everything."

Grama and Papa leave the kitchen, and Daddy starts cleaning up the table as Dean holds onto his last two bites. 

He's a little confused, why are they in a rush to get going?

"Uh?"

He's hoping Daddy understands the question.

"We've gotta get home and go to bed, sweetie. We've got a long day of packing tomorrow and getting the house cleaned before we leave. We're flying down to Florida on Monday morning!"

Florida? Huh. So that's where they were going. 

Now that Dean knows what's at stake he shoves his food in his mouth so that his Daddy can clean him off sooner. 

Daddy has Dean all wiped down and ready to head home as Papa and Grama come back downstairs, carrying the mountain of supplies Daddy had sent him off with - even though most of it went widely unused. 

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"I guess I'll be seeing you boys in a week," Grama says wrapping Papa in a hug. "Now you take care Cas, dear." She holds him at arms length. "I want to hear all about how the most taxing thing you did all week was lift drinks all day."

Papa chuckles. 

"Yes, Ma'am."

She steps over to Dean and Daddy, and she presses a kiss to Dean's head. 

"Thank you for spending the day with me, sugar bean." Another kiss. "Don't let your daddies get too crazy."

She wraps Daddy in a hug too, one that encompasses Dean. 

"You be careful, baby."

"Yes, Mom."

His daddies call out their final goodbyes as they walk out to their car, toting Dean and his things. 

And it isn't until Daddy has him all strapped in, and he's starting the car does Dean recall -

Did Daddy say _flying?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for typos. I tried fixing them, but my fingers are still a bit tender.
> 
> Also. I will get to comments eventually....


	31. "Vacation's All I ever Wanted!" (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies my Lovelies,
> 
> while I would like to come up with an incredible story as to where I've been, it would be lies. My boys have just not been talking to me, and I'm starting to think that they've actually gone on vacation. Additionally, school has been a bit hectic and my spare time has been used up sleeping and trying to get up the motivation to run a 5K at the end of the year. (Survey says: Highly Unlikely to Happen)
> 
> Point is: I've been working on this chapter for weeks, and I just can't seem to be reaching the end anytime soon. So instead I'll post the travel to/vacation/travel home in segments. I think this will be a much better option all around. 
> 
> Let me know what you think?
> 
> [Additional note: this chapter features a time jump. It starts with them the first morning of them on vacation and flashes back to them traveling. Next chapter will pick up where this chapter left off.]

Cas wakes up to the feel of something solid and warm settling across his legs, the something drapes across his thighs and ends on his hips, while something else entirely tickles its way across his lower belly. This final something is extraordinarily hot, and leaves a wet trail that cools in the air that blows over his skin.

He's waking up slowly, and moves his good arm to grab at the thing tickling the skin underneath his belly button. His fingers encounter silky, but damp, locks of hair. He hums as he runs his fingers through it, and feels himself relax even further as Sam presses open kisses on his skin.

Sam doesn't stop, and Cas doesn't open his eyes. Both too relaxes to do anything more or anything less. So Sam keeps kissing and Cas keeps petting. 

The thing that breaks the spell is Cas' tummy growling, asking for breakfast, but by that point Cas had almost fallen back asleep and Sam's lips were puffy, red, and split-slicked. 

Cas opens his eyes and looks down just as Sam lays his head off to the side, over Cas' hip bones which were spared Sammy's wet kisses.

"Morning."

"Mmm."

Cas keeps carding his fingers through Sam's hair, which has gone from damp to dry during their morning interlude. "Why was your hair wet?" 

His voice comes out sleepy and rough.

"Went for a jog."

Cas can't keep the smile from his face. "What happened to relaxing?"

Sam shrugs. "I won't do it again, just wanna say I've gone running on the beach during the sunrise."

"I never said you weren't allowed to continue."

"I know, but if I'm going to exercise in the morning on our vacation I'd rather it take on some other form," Sam says before he sucks a spot of Cas' skin into his mouth.

Cas bites his lip as he feels the blood pooling low in his belly. 

"Sam."

His husband ignores him as Sam moves on to suck a second hickey over Cas' other hip bone. 

"Sammy."

"Mmmm?"

"I love you, but I'm too tired for sex."

Sam chuckles as he places one last kiss over Cas' tummy. 

"No sex, but can I carry you outside to look at the sun?"

"That sounds doable."

Sam stands up and moves to the head of the bed as Cas holds his good arm out, prepared to sling it over Sam's shoulder as his husband carefully scoops him up. Cas isn't wearing any gear at the moment. He forgoes the boot when he sleeps, and instead of the sling Cas convinced Sam that taping his hand over his chest and trapping his arm under his shirt would be a suitable alternative. Cas prefers this method, as his arm feels more refreshed in the morning compared to being stuck in the sling all night. 

Sam has him out of the bed and in his arms in one smooth motion. The villa that they're staying in has a master bedroom that opens out onto the back patio. Their particular slice of heaven was facing North, which meant that the newly born sun was rising far off to their right. 

Sam places Cas in a deck chair carefully as Cas looks at the soft blues that are painted across the sky. 

Cas looses himself in the view and doesn't notice Sam retreat back into the villa. It isn't until he comes back out with a breakfast tray that Cas looks back over at him.

"Oh," Cas is surprised at the sight of a large pitcher of orange juice, a bowl of tropical fruit, toast, and fluffy white eggs. "Wow. Do we have delivery?"

"Pfft." Sam shakes his head as he scoops up a plate and sits near Cas. "Do we have delivery," he muttered as he plucked a bright cherry and held it out to Cas' lips. 

He couldn't hold back his smile as he accepted the food and turned in his chair so he could lean back against Sam's chest. 

The two moved together so that Sam's arm was comfortably around him, and they were situated perfectly so that they both could look out at the sun and eat fruit from the plate in Sam's lap. 

"You want a mimosa?"

"Mimosas?" He sat up a bit to free Sam, who reached out to pour two drinks and handed one to him. Cas accepted his drink, complete with a straw and a fun umbrella. When Sam turned back with his own drink his smile was as bright as the sun they were watching. 

He leaned forward to give Sam a kiss. 

"Pass my compliments to the delivery boy," he said with a coy smile. 

Sam just snorted and pulled Cas back to his chest. 

They went back to looking out over the beach. Studying the rays of the sun. Smelling the salty beach air. Feeling the warm breeze wash across their faces. 

Sam squeezed Cas close every so often, and Cas would dip his head back to Sam's shoulder. It was a wonderful morning. 

"This morning is perfect."

Sam hums his approval, "makes yesterday almost worth it."

He can't hold back his groan as Cas thinks about the previous day. "I've been meaning to ask, how horrible of parents would we be to find an island day care and just make a drop and run until flight time?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "We aren't ditching Dean."

"I'm not saying we ditch, I'm saying we hand him off for a bit."

"You say that now, but you know after five minutes you would be missing that little monster."

"Lord knows why." Cas shakes his head, "that may have changed since yesterday."

Sam scoffs. "I doubt it."

Almost as if he knows he's being talked about the sound of an unhappy shriek is heard coming from inside the villa. 

Cas feels his heartstrings pull almost immediately. His poor babe was waking up in an unfamiliar place with no Daddy or Papa in sight. Sweet little Dean has to be feeling terrified to be screaming like that. 

He doesn't have to prompt Sam into action, as his husband is already out of his chair and jogging into the house to rescue their little boy. 

Cas uses the moment to finish off his drink and to clear the table near him of any throwable objects. Just because he's had a full nights sleep it doesn't mean that their small monster is going to be any more agreeable than he was yesterday. 

Sam walks back out snuggling Dean. Their little boy is holding tightly onto the front of his Daddy's shirt, sucking sullenly on his pacifier as he looks around, seemingly unimpressed with the view.

Sam is pressing gobs of kisses to Dean's cheeks, trying to get him to smile or giggle, but Dean is having none of it.

"Oh my, look at you Mr. Sassy-britches. Are you going to smile today, or does Daddy and Papa get to deal with a little monster again?"

When Dean hears him he decides he pouts even further. Sam leans forward and easily transfers Dean over to Cas' good arm. Surprisingly Dean goes without complaint, and Cas is able to arrange Dean comfortably on his chest. 

Despite the disgruntled look Dean is still quite sleepy, and he burrows his face into Cas' sleep shirt, his eyebrows still crunched adorably in annoyance. 

Cas rubs softly at the little boy's back, and instead of talking he allows Sam to slip back in place behind him. 

Their little family is finally in paradise, and nothing, not Dean's bad morning nor the previous horrendous day he had, is going to keep Cas from enjoying it.

*****

When the alarm goes off at four am Cas responds with a groan. 

Not only is it early morning - and who doesn't hate those? - but it's a _busy_ early morning. 

While Cas is still working on bringing his head off of the pillow Sam is already up and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower. 

He slaps his hand over his face and drags it around as he holds off on waking up. 

They spent the previous day cleaning things up. No one wants to come home to a dirty house, or a sink full of dishes, so they made sure everything was clean when they got back. Cas usually kept the house fairly clean, but doing everything from top to bottom in one day, while packing, _while_ watching Dean was difficult to say the least, even with Sam's generous help.

Cas can only reasonably take a few more minutes in bed before he's gotta start getting ready too. 

He isn't wearing his sling - he's been sleeping without lately - so he slips from bed and heads to the hall bathroom so that he can shower the same time as his husband. 

They have a busy morning. They need to shower. Dress. Wake and feed Dean. Eat breakfast themselves. Finish last minute packing (hygiene supplies, phone chargers, Raphael). Finish last minute cleaning. Load up the car. Unplug all the electronics (not including major appliances). Lock up. Double check the lock up. Call Sam's parents. Double check their suitcase. Double check their Dean. Double check their tickets. Double check their everything. And _then_ drive out to the airport. 

Traveling stresses Cas out.

But none of this can happen until _after_ he has his morning shower. 

He's in their less used hall bathroom. It'll be Dean's someday, but for now it's a decent guest bathroom that has generic decorations to give the illusion of use. 

There's a collection of fresh towels under the sink and mostly full shampoo, conditioner and body wash in the stall, so Cas doesn't need to bring anything with him. 

His bad arm is tapped up and trapped under his shirt, so he discards that and tosses it on the floor before he steps up to the toilet to relieve himself. 

While his good hand is holding his dick , he pulls his other slowly from his chest to undo the tape. He'd never been so happy for a lack of chest hair before. 

When he's finished he goes to turn toward the sink when his calf locks up in a cramp. It's a rare occurrence, but Cas doesn't react quick enough, and instead of relaxing, he tenses and the muscles clench painfully. Since he was mid-step and it took him by surprise he ends up tripping and does the only thing he can think of which is to catch himself on the edge of the sink. 

Unfortunately for Cas he does so with his right hand, and when the full weight of his body is put on his right shoulder, his _bad_ shoulder, the pain that lances through him is enough to steal the air from his lungs. 

It takes him a minute to recover, and when he shifts off of his bad arm he's able to pull in a few desperate, steadying breaths. 

He stands quietly next to the sink and works on relaxing his breathing. A few beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead at the unexpected pain, but he wipes them away with a swipe of his hand. 

Cas glances over at the shower, but he honestly can't work up the motivation for a shower anymore. Not after that. So instead he bends his head over the sink and scrubs his fingers through his hair with the hand soap that sits on the counter. He's sure to rub his face and the back of his neck as he narrowly avoids aspirating soap bubbles. 

He realizes that it isn't a full on shower, and that in reality he doesn't feel much cleaner, but at least he'll _look_ a little better. 

He comes out of the bathroom and is walking back into the bedroom when Sam's shower cuts off. The calf muscle spasm was a pretty good one, and there's some lingering pain that's hanging around. He's tempted into asking his husband for a quick massage, just something to loosen up the knots, but as Cas sits down on the bed he figures that he won't be walking around too much today to make a fuss over it. 

Instead he works off his boxers while he sits - can't trip if you aren't standing - and retrieves a fresh pair from the drawer. 

Sam comes out of the bathroom, towel held loosely around his hips as Cas steps into the leg holes and starts to shimmy them on, just as Dean lets out an unhappy cry from the monitor. 

Cas knows that cry. 

That's a poop cry.

He looks over at Sam the same time that Sam looks to him. 

"Can you? I'm - " Sam gestures to his naked state.

Cas doesn't reply and simply marches out of the room and across the hall to Dean's room. The little boy is grunt-crying and rolling around in his blanket trying to get out.

"What's wrong my sweet boy," Cas asks as he reaches into the crib and pulls the blanket out from around Dean.

"Ah?"

"Yeah?"

Dean rolls over to his belly and sits up. He's rubbing his eyes all sleepy as Cas wraps his arm around Dean and lifts.

"Uh?"

"Are you messy?"

"Yeah."

Cas kisses Dean's sleep warm brow and takes him over to the changing table. Dean is still crying and pouting, and Cas can almost already tell that Dean's going to be fussy today. 

He gets Dean to lay down on the changing table, but his little bug doesn't seem to want to stay still. 

Dean's grunting and squirming as Cas reaches for a diaper - he's holding onto the waistband of his boxers on the left side with his bad arm to keep from moving it - but Dean is rolling about on the foam pad. He's worried Dean will wiggle his way off the table if he doesn't hold him down, so Cas uses his forearm across Dean's little belly and he dips down under the changing table to grab a clean diaper with his teeth. 

He drops it over Dean's feet and he shakes it out with one hand before he tugs it underneath Dean's squirmy bum.

"Can you be still for Papa? Please?"

Dean's gonna wiggle himself right onto the floor.

"Sweetheart. Please?"

"No!"

Dean's still crying as Cas tugs at the straps of his diaper, and his squirmy boy is working against him when it comes to cleaning up his messy bum. 

He uses the clean bits of the old diaper to get most of the mess off before he turns to the wipes. Dean's natural instinct to curl usually helps out the most when it comes to cleaning up these kind of messes, but this morning Dean's not being helpful. 

"Dean, you want to see your toes?" 

Cas uses his forearm to scoop up Dean's legs, and does his best to use his elbow to hold up Dean's legs so that he can scrub the little boy's butt clean. 

Usually this technique works pretty well, cause like he said, Dean's a bug, just not this morning.

"Dean," Cas says with a sterner voice, hoping his monster will settle down if his Papa scolds him a little harder, "I need you to settle down."

Unfortunately Cas' scolding has the side-effect of scaring his little boy and though Dean stops his squirming, his face contorts into a pinched expression and he's letting loose a tired, and cranky little boy cry. 

He's proving that he's got a good set of lungs as he lets loose his wails between stuttering deep breaths, and Cas is doing his damnedest to rush through the diaper change so he can cuddle his boy close. 

"You're okay sweetheart. It's alright. Papa is sorry he yelled."

Cas keeps up his reassurances but he's also sure that Dean can't hear them over his cries.

He can't tape up Dean's diaper quick enough, and once his naked monster is diapered he scoops him up and holds him to his chest. 

"I know. I know. Papa got mad, huh?" He tries bouncing Dean a little bit, but then his cries just waiver with his movements. 

"I am so sorry baby. So sorry."

Cas grabs a blanket from Dean's crib and wraps Dean up in it before settling them down in the rocker. With a bit of awkward shuffling he's able to haul Dean up onto his shoulder - and grimaces at the loud cries being released into his ear - and he alternates between patting and rubbing Dean's back in an effort to calm him down. 

It's taking Dean a while to come down from this recent crying fit - and Cas is worried that it's because Dean was yelled at by his Papa - but eventually the intensity of Dean's cries taper off. 

Part of it has to do with him calming down, and the other part has to do with the corner of blanket the boy had sucked into his mouth and was crying around. 

Now that the volume has dropped Cas feels confident that Dean will actually hear him if he tries singing to him.

"What a rough way to start the morning, huh?" Cas says softly as he pulls Dean back down. 

His little monster's lips are still turned down in an unimpressed frown as big tears rolls down from his sad green eyes. Dean nods and sniffles in a dramatic fashion. 

Cas uses the blanket to wipe away the snot and tears that have been left behind. 

"Do you think Papa should sing to make it better?"

Dean nods.

"Me too."

Cas hums a little bit as he warms up his vocal cords before he starts singing. He takes his Dean singing very seriously. 

_"Bye and Bye baby, it's been sweeeet looove._  
Though this feeeling I can't chaa-aange.  
Please don't take it so baaadly."  
Cause Lord knows, I'm to blaaa-aaame." 

Dean grunts and kicks as Cas comes to the end of the verse. 

"S'that not what you wanted sweet boy?"

He's got a finger crooked in his mouth - Cas can't reach any of their pacifiers from where he is - and he's happy to see his lips starting to curve into a smile.

"How about this one."

_"Is this the real life, is this just fantasy?  
Caught in a laaandslide no esca -"_

Dean kicks again, this time with a giggle.

"No?"

"Nuh."

"Let's try again."

_"We don't need no -"_

"No!"

Cas is smiling at this point, and he can see that Dean's spirits have improved drastically. 

"Okay, I'll sing Dean's special song."

Cas clears his throat and gets to it.

_"Dean's my cherry pie!_  
Cool drink of water such a sweet surpirse!  
Smells so good makes his Papa cry!  
Sweet! Cherry! Pie!" 

Dean gives a happy kick (Cas can clearly see the difference) and works to mash his fingers together in a mock clap.

"That one good sweetheart?"

"Yeah."

"How about we go downstairs for breakfast and see if we can get Daddy to join in on singing, huh?"

Dean coos from around his fingers so Cas hauls him up and treks downstairs to the kitchen. 

All of the things that are completely packed are spread out about the kitchen. Sam and Cas are sharing a suitcase. They aren't packing anything more than shorts, t-shirts and swim trunks and Sam's luggage set from his parents' college graduation present provided a suitcase large enough to fit both of their things with plenty of extra space. 

Dean was the diva on this trip. In addition to his diaper bag - which is literally just that, a bag full of diapers, cause neither men want to spoil their vacation by having to make a diaper run - he's got one of Sam's larger suitcases stuffed to the gills. Cas has baby wipes, rash cream, various baby medications, allergy pills, tylenol, sun screens, various wipes and cloths, about a dozen onesies, shirts, and little khaki and cotton shorts. There's also three different sun hats and swim tops for him to wear on the beach, along with a pair of sandals and water shoes for them to wedge his feet into to protect his little toes from hot sand. 

Then, he's got an entire collection of pacifiers, as Cas is sure that they're bound to lose a few during this trip, as well as half a dozen bottles for them to use, and some small, cheap, new toys for him to play with. 

Included in the suitcase are Dean's special food items, which also contains an over abundance of Dean's protein milk. They discussed their vacation plans with Dean's doctor, and he only had one bit of advice personalized to their baby, he suggested that they bring along more milk than they expected needing. His concern was that the flight, time change, and deviation from routine would upset their boy and keep him from a regular eating schedule, so the milk was to make up the difference. 

There's also a handful of snacks; baggies of dried fruit and cereal, his cheddar poofs and even a small bag of gummi candy that they'll use in case of emergency.

They still don't know how Dean will handle traveling. 

Cas sidesteps all of their belongings and sits at the kitchen counter with Dean on his lap.

During the short walk Dean has gone from awake and giggley to drowsy and sour again. He's rubbing at his little face with the back of his fingers and grunting softly.

"Are you sleepy, my babe?"

Cas pulls Dean's hand away from his face.

Sam - who is at the stove making their usual breakfasts - turns around and frowns at their sleepy boy.

"Are you sure that keeping him up will be a good idea?"

Cas offers up a half-shrug. "I want him good and tired so he'll sleep on the plane."

Sam nods and turns back to cooking. 

Instead of holding Dean on his lap and jiggling him around to keep him awake Cas slips off of the stool and deposits Dean on the floor. 

"Can you help me pack, sweetheart? There are still a few things that I need."

Dean's sitting on his bottom, a few fingers shoved in his mouth that he's sucking on. 

"Can you bring me your pacifier?"

Dean stares up at him and cocks his head. 

"Pacifier, baby?" Cas prompts.

Dean nods his head and turns around, placing palms down on the floor to push himself up. He toddles off into the living room where he's bound to find at least one discarded pacifier laying somewhere. 

Cas keeps an ear out for his son, but allows Dean to wander around on his own. He isn't likely to get into too much trouble with both his daddies in the next room. 

It doesn't take long before Cas hears little feet, and looks down to see Dean approach. He gets up next to Cas' chair and reaches up on his toes to hold out two pacifiers to his Papa, one in each hand.

"Thank you Pumpkin," Cas scoops the pacifiers up and runs his free fingers through Dean's hair before he inspects Dean's find. 

The two plastic pieces look clean. It's likely Dean found them on the coffee table, which has turned into pacifier central, but just to be sure Cas pops one in his mouth and cleans it with his own saliva before he offers it to his son.

Dean opens his mouth and sucks it right in, smiling up at him with wide eyes.

Cas keeps the second pacifier in a safe place. 

"Can Dean find me a sock?"

Dean's little face crunches in thought. He's likely thinking of a place where he'll be able to find a sock - Cas thinks the task should be simple, as Dean has a Daddy with a habit of balling his socks up and throwing them about the house - he turns from Cas' chair before too long and marches back off to the living room as Sam finishes breakfast.

He places Cas' plate on the counter and removes Dean's blanket from the surface. 

"Can you toss that in the laundry?" Cas asks as he picks up his fork and starts eating. 

"Why?" 

"Cause I used it to wipe Dean's nose and it has a bit of baby boogers on it."

Sam grimaces as he sits and eats his own plate. 

"Shouldn't you clean it before we leave?"

Cas swallows as he rolls his eyes, "do you really think that we're going to come home and find that your Mom _hasn't_ done the laundry?"

Sam smiles. "Good point."

They both look down at the arrival of little feet and Cas laughs at Dean, holding up one of Sam's socks like a trophy as he moves to stand between his two daddies.

"Good job booger," Sam says as he dips down to pluck Dean off the ground. "You want to eat breakfast with Daddy so Papa can finish getting ready?"

Shit.

Cas still has to get dressed.

Dean nods, and Sam starts feeding forkfuls of eggs to the both of them while Cas gulps his breakfast down. 

They aren't late, but it's always preferable to be early as opposed to on time when you're traveling. 

Cas rushes back upstairs and grabs the clothes he plans to wear. It's been sixty in Illinois all week, but the temperature for Florida and the Bahamas have been steady, mid-eighties to nineties all week. 

He's got a pair of jeans, they're soft and comfortable, his boot and a slip on pair of loafers, and a light t-shirt and then an even lighter jacket. He pulls everything on and double checks that they aren't missing anything from their room or Dean's.

He grabs Dean's clothes - which he had forgotten - and makes his way downstairs to finish getting ready.

His boys are still at the counter, Sam is finishing off his coffee and Dean is holding his spoon and feeding himself oatmeal.

"Can you get him dressed while I get my gear on?" Cas asks as he sets Dean's clothes next to Sam.

"Sure."

Sam starts getting Dean dressed despite the fact that the little boy is still eating breakfast as he's working, and Cas moves into the living room where they've left his boot and sling. The boot is actually the hardest to get on, as he's gotta slide his foot backwards in a tight channel that keeps his ankle still, and then he needs to reloop all of the straps that keep it in place. 

He's had plenty of practice though, and it doesn’t take more than a few minutes. 

The sling is definitely easiest. 

Just over the head and two buckles, and he's done. 

Sam comes in with Dean just as Cas is buckling his sling. 

"You wanna hold Monkey and I'll load the car?"

"Yeah," Cas accepts his son - and hopes that the morning of 'Pass-the-Dean' doesn't continue at the airport, "did you double check all of the bags?"

"Yes," Sam bends over and kisses his head, "but I'll check them again as I put them in the trunk.

"Thank you."

Sam leaves and Cas grabs the remote to flip over to the Weather Channel, he wants to see the forecast for Florida, just so he can get excited about the weather once more.

"You see that sweetie?" Cas points at the TV which shows the promise of mid-nineties for their trip. "That means we're going to have a great time."

Dean glances at the TV, but he's more interested in snuggling against his Papa's chest. 

Cas is worried that Dean might fall asleep in the car ride to the airport, which is a distinct possibility given that the trip will be about an hour and a half, but he's going to do his best to keep Dean awake. He'd like for Dean to sleep on the plane. 

Sam comes back to the living room a few minutes later and leans over the back of the couch. 

"You guys ready?"

"Yep," Cas flips the TV off and stands up with his husband's help.

Sam takes Dean and walks ahead of him to strap the babe into his car seat while Cas climbs into the passenger side. He's only a little worried that Dean will fall asleep in the car, but he has plans to try and keep him at least a little awake.

Sam gets in just as Cas is pushing the CD into the dash, and he turns the volume up high.

It's ACDC.

At the opening bars to TNT Cas turns around to spy a great big, soother blocked smile.

He hopes Dean can keep up the good mood once they reach the airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, I see all of your comments and I've been getting to them slowly, the problem is just that: I've been getting to them slowly. 
> 
> I apologize for this, as talking with you wonderful lot is the best part of posting. I'm hoping to chip away a few more in the coming days, but I'm never sure if I'll find the time.


	32. "Vacations All I Ever Wanted!" (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLLOOO LOVELIES!
> 
> I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages! Okay, so I made Christmas cookies today. Everyone gets one, so pass them around and I'll tell ya'll where I've been! 
> 
> So last I was here I warned you I'd be gone for a bit because of school, and yeah, that was part of what kept me away! Then came the exciting adventure of me losing my flashdrive at the end of October :( It had all of my homework on it, as well as all of my fanfics on it :( so buh-bye went all of my upcoming chapters. So yeah.
> 
> Then! Came finals week and all of that joy, coupled with all of the craziness that that entails. 
> 
> Then! Two weeks ago I graduated with my Bachelors! Whoo! 
> 
> But that's not even the craziest thing that's happened! I accepted a new job two days before graduation! Which is incredible, because now I can afford all of my crazy student loans!
> 
> So, point is, life has been crazy right now, and I've been a little burned out. I'm on a self-imposed break until mid-January when I start my new job, so in the meantime I'm going to work on getting my lost chapters back. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy my coming back chapter, it felt a bit rough getting out, so hopefully it doesn't read that way!
> 
>  
> 
> (forewarning: I took some liberties with the facts of this chapter!)

From their cozy home in the Village of Lakewood Sam and Cas had the choice of flying out of either O'Hare in Chicago, or the smaller airport in Rockford. Both airports were the same distance to drive, but the Rockford airport won for a handful of reasons. For starters, driving into Rockford would leave Sam with less of a headache, and second, Cas really didn't want to subject Dean to the torrents of crowds that constantly swamp the space at O'Hare. 

So they were driving into Rockford. 

Cas was able to keep Dean awake for about twenty minutes. Staring at his little smile as he wiggled around in his seat and cooed along to the words playing on the radio. 

But when Dean's little eyes were fluttering shut Cas had to call it, he turned down the dial on the radio and tossed Dean's blanket over his lap. 

Their little boy was dozing, with his head tipped over to one side of his seat. 

Cas dipped his hand forward and rubbed at his eyes. 

Sam's hand wraps around his thigh, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just kind of tired."

"Then why don't you rest for a bit?"

Cas looks up to see Sam taking a sip of coffee, almost as if to prove that he's good to stay awake. 

"Nah, I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Sure," Cas shrugs, "I'll sleep on the plane with monster."

Sam just shakes his head and put the thermos back in the holder. 

Cas let his head fall back against the headrest as he watched the fields passing by. They hardly ever ventured out this way, typically they would leave their driveway and drive straight into the traffic of Chicago. The only time that they drive through a host of cornfields is when they go to visit Sam's parents. 

"I could get used to this," he murmurs after a while. 

"Hmm?"

"This." Cas raises a lazy hand to encompass the view outside the window. "I like the idea of living out here. How peaceful it is. Ya know? Kind of like at your parents' place?"

Sam hums in thought. "I know what you mean. I always thought, growing up, that I wanted to get away from that small town feel, but I miss it sometimes."

"I'd like to raise Dean in that. Tiny ass school, a house with a barn bigger than the actual house," Cas barely feels the yawn that escapes him. "You know?"

"I know," Sam says as he reaches out to scritch his nails through Cas' hair. "Maybe we'll move closer to Mom and Dad someday. I think Dean would like that."

Cas just hums in response. He's just awake enough to feel as Sam continues to massage his scalp as his husband navigates the road. 

*****

Cas wakes back up as Sam is slowing the SUV down. He glances out the window quick enough to see that they're pulling in front of the airport and Sam's hopping out of the drivers side before Cas can say anything. 

He swivels back around to glance at Dean. The little boy has grabbed onto his blanket in his sleep and pressed his face into it. All he can see is Dean's soft little eyelids and the top curve of his pink nose. Cas smiles at his sweet baby boy. 

The passenger door opens suddenly and Cas turns to see his husband as he pushes a wheelchair up to Cas' door.

"Sam."

"What?" the younger male says cheekily, "I figured you'd like the chance to sit down as we wait in line."

Cas shakes his head, but he unbuckles and steps out of the car all the same. He's prepared to ignore Sam's well-meaning gesture until he puts weight on his calf, and gets the reminder of the painful Charlie Horse he suffered that morning. The tense muscles pull in a teasing reminder of the pain. 

Cas sighs and dips down to seat himself in the proffered wheelchair. 

He watches Sam open up the back door, and gently unbuckles their boy from his spot. He's cooing, and speaking in soothing tones, so it's likely the monster is awake. 

As Sam is busy with Dean Cas finds himself being pulled backwards, a few feet away from the SUV. He glances up and spies a young man, a boy, probably closer to Dean's original age. 

"Morning, Sir." 

The youth dips his head in a respectful nod, and parks Cas' chair on the sidewalk, far enough away from the car drop off, where he's safely far away enough to avoid being hit by errant car doors. 

Cas offers his own greeting, and when he's hit with the fact that the kid is probably used to helping little old ladies out of their vehicles his face prickles with heated embarrassment. 

His shame doesn't last long, however, as Sam is shortly turning around with a bundled and blanketed Dean in his arms. The sour boy has one hand fisted in Sam's shirt, and the other is splayed across his father's cheek. 

Sam is still talking quietly to him, rubbing his hand up and down the boy's back, and it isn't until Dean is reaching out his little arms so his Papa can take him that Cas notices their babe looking a little weepy. 

"Oh, is my baby tired?" He says taking the snuggly bundle. 

Almost as if he was waiting for outside stimulation Dean's little lip trembles and he starts to cry. 

His tears start flowing and the sound of aborted little half-cries reach Cas' ears. 

"Baby, can you help me get him in the - ?"

Cas gestures to his sling as best he can, and Sam comes to his rescue. Between the two of them they're able to slip Dean into the wide band of Cas' sling, and once Dean's firmly lodged into the Dean pocket Cas feels better. Though it doesn't stop Dean's tears. 

"Sir, would you like some help with your bags?"

The young boy is talking to Sam now, and is offering to help bring their suitcase out of the trunk.

"Yes, thank you."

Cas leaves the two to it as he curls his good arm around Dean's back. 

Dean's head is pressed into the curve of Cas' neck, and he's crying miserably into his Papa's skin.

"My sweet monster," Cas coos at the boy. "It's tough isn't it?"

Dean garbles back an ineligible response before he sniffles wetly and goes back to his cries. 

Cas gives their boy a squeeze and looks up to see Sam and the kid hefting their luggage towards him. 

"I can get you and your luggage in line," the boy is saying to Cas, "if you'd like to park your car, sir."

The Rockford airport is large, but not enough to warrant valet service. 

"Sure, if that's okay with you Cassie."

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Sam nods and hops back in the car to park it, which leaves Cas with their luggage and Dean.

"So how do we -?" Cas is uncertain how him and the youth will handle all of their bags.

"I can loop the handles to your bags on the back of your chair," the kid says while already in action, "and I'll have you push one of your suitcases in front of you, all you need is the handle and to steer it out of the way of anything. I'll push you into line and stay with you until your husband arrives."

"Well thank you."

"It's not a problem, Sir."

Once all of the bags are packed onto the chair with Cas, and he's handed their rolling suitcase the kid is pushing Cas into the airport and into line for check in. Dean's still crying, but it's more of a tired cry than an active one that requires him to take action. When they're waiting at the end of the queue Cas looks ahead of them and sees that there are a handful of passengers who are also being pushed in wheelchairs, but he's the only one who hasn't hit retirement age.

"So you mind if I ask what happened?"

Cas glances back up at the kid who is patiently holding onto his chair, he can see the genuine curiosity in the kids eyes. 

"Well, we adopted Dean this spring. He was available because his father was uh, a bit of an unsavory character I guess." Cas dips down to kiss Dean's forehead. "Well, his father tracked us down before authorities could reach him and - " Cas shrugs. "He was upset. Shot me trying to get to Dean, broke my collarbone, knocked me down a set of stairs, sprained my ankle, and gave myself a concussion when I landed."

He feels proud of himself for his story, because he knows that he'd do it all over again. Anything to protect Dean. 

"Well shit, wherever you're going you totally deserve it."

Cas can only chuckle at the response. 

Sam shows up a short while later and the reigns to Cas' chair are handed off. They bid the kid goodbye and exchange small comments on how kind he was towards them. 

The wait for the front counter isn't too long. There are enough attendants available to check their luggage and before long they're checking their bags in and whipping out their ID's to confirm their ticket purchases.

"And you have three tickets, correct?"

"Yes," Sam informs the female attendant. 

"And who is the third ticket for?"

"Oh, uh," Cas speaks up and tries to wheel himself back from the counter so she can spy Dean, "he's right here."

The woman leans over the counter to glimpse the back of Dean's head.

"Alright," she goes back to checking her computer, "and are you planning on bringing a car seat for him?"

"Shit!"

Cas swivels his head up to spy Sam jerk a fist up to his face.

"I forgot it in the car."

"That's no problem, you can run out and get it," she said before turning back to Cas, "while we escort you up to the second level."

Sam nods quickly, and once they're finished up at the counter a second attendant comes over to push Cas into a waiting line for the single elevator to take him up to the second floor - which is where he'll actually be searched before entering the waiting area. 

The line to go up through the elevator is pretty short, but Cas still finds himself fidgeting in his chair. The initial cool of the building has worn off, whatever air conditioning the building provides is a sore attempt at keeping guests cool. He's feeling beads of sweat popping up on his face, running down his temples. 

It's not helping that he didn't have a proper shower that morning. He's covered in grime and oil, plus the sticky sweat from yesterday as he hobbled about the house on a cleaning frenzy. 

He's growing uncomfortable in his skin, as he feels overheated and sticky. The feeling is mixing with his tired eyes and the fact that his husband keeps being pulled away from him - he's hedging on irritable despite the fact that nothing terrible is happening. 

Dean shifts in his sling.

At least the monster is back to being asleep. 

Cas cups the back of his head and is sure to press a soft kiss to the boys forehead. Though Dean isn't awake Cas wants to let the boy know that his Papa thinks he's doing a great job. 

"Oh my, well isn't he a cute one?"

Cas glances over to the elderly woman in the wheelchair next to him. They're lined up against a bank of windows like parked cars. 

"What's his name?"

Cas smiles immediately. Irritated mood or not, talking about his son will always make him happy.

"This is Dean," Cas says, pushing his chest forward a little bit to allow part of Dean's face to show. His lips are popped open and the lower lip is slick with drool. Cas swipes his thumb over it and wishes he could reach into the diaper bag for one of Dean's pacifiers. He thinks Sam must've taken his last one out when he got Dean out of his seat. 

Dean's lips smack together after Cas thumbs at them, and it makes Dean's admirer coo in adoration. 

"He's precious."

"Thank you, I like to think so, but only when he's sleeping."

She laughs softly and sighs. "Yeah, they're like that at that age."

"How many did you have?" Cas asks, cause he can hear the tone of a proud mother in her voice.

"Seven."

"Seven?"

"Yes. And though life has been crazy it's been so full," she smiles as she stares at Dean's cheeks. "Full of babies and grandbabies. We're heading out to Colorado to visit my youngest. She's due to have her first baby in about a week."

"How many grandkids do you have?"

"Just eight so far. All under five."

"Wow. Christmas has to be loud."

She chuckles, "it is."

"Do you think you'll have any more?"

"Um, well. I don't know. Dean's been kind of a handful so far. I'm not so sure that we'll want more."

"Well sometimes that decision is made for you. There's always the chance of having accidents," her smile is so genuine. He doesn't have the heart to correct her that he and his _husband_ won't be having any accident babies. 

"That's true."

Cas is unable to continue their conversation as the woman is next in line for the elevator. He takes the moment to reach behind him to feel that the diaper bag strap is still secure around the back handle of his chair. Everything else has been checked, but they're brining a bag with a few necessities for Dean. 

Only another minute passes before an airport agent comes to take him to the elevator.

"Morning sir."

"Morning."

"How are you enjoying your morning so far?"

"It's good," Cas says as he's turned around and wheeled backwards into the elevator. "Everyone here has been great."

"That's good to hear, traveling can be stressful by itself, not to mention when you're injured with kids."

The agent was a bit older. It's likely that he's traveled with young kids before. 

"Yeah, he's been sleeping so far. We'll see how things go when he wakes up."

"He not a good traveler?"

"Not sure, this is his first time."

"Well," the elevator dinged and opened up, "I hope all is well."

Cas' chair is pushed towards the very short line that leads to the handful of airport security staff who are searching the travelers.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?"

Cas is being handed off to yet another airport agent. This one, however, doesn't seem to be like any of the patient agents he's dealt with thus far. Cas has a nagging feeling that he's about to have an encounter with the most harried, irritable agent at the airport. 

"I'm going to have to ask you to move your chair out of the way."

"Out of the -," Cas glances around the space he's been parked in. He's not even in the way of the potted plant that's been tucked in the corner. 

"Um, I guess I'm not sure where you want me to go."

"You're going to have to be independently screened."

"Excuse me?"

He goes ignored as the woman comes around his chair and pushes him towards an empty room that's off to one side. It's the room they use to screen people independently, but usually they're offered the chance to have someone with them.

"Can't I wait for my husband to join me?"

"Afraid not sir."

Cas is wheeled into the room and he holds onto the back of Dean's head for comfort. 

The room is empty, save for a table which houses a few baskets, and there are three TSA agents waiting for him.

"Sir, can you remove your sling?" that comes from a forty-something man who looks like he's coming down the bad end of a long shift. 

"Can I wait for my husband? I'd like for him to hold my son…"

All of this moving and talking is waking Dean up. He's squirming around quite a bit and Cas is expecting crying and tears in under two minutes.

When a TSA agent comes forward to scoop Dean from his lap, that's when things get bad.

"Oh hell no, you aren't taking my son."

"Sir, you need to comply."

"I'll comply, but you're not taking my son."

"We just need to search you."

"And you will, _after_ my husband gets here."

Cas feels movement under his palm, and glances down to see wet, green eyes looking up at him. 

The monster is awake.

Dean looks around and seems to pick up on the tense situation, as he starts crying almost immediately.

The start of Dean's forceful tears seems to jar the airport staff into realizing that they're pushing the man and child into an uncomfortable situation, as they all seem to back off to give Cas some space.

But it's too late, Dean's already crying, and Cas can tell by the force of his howls that he isn't going to be slowing down anytime soon. 

"C'mon baby, it's okay. You're okay," Cas tries his best to bounce Dean as he's sitting in the chair.

Dean's trying his best to push himself away from Cas' chest, but the strap is holding him too close. It's making Dean even more frustrated to be confined during his crying fit, and Cas can tell he's trying his best to squirm away so he can toddle off and vent his frustrations by drumming his tiny little fists against whatever objects were available. 

Cas pulls the boy's head closer to his chest and tries to get his mouth by Dean's ear. His tired and cranky little boy could be weepy all day if Cas doesn't nip this in the bud. 

He's trying to hum out the tune for Cherry Pie into Dean's ear, but his son is pushing against his Papa's chest pretty hard. 

Cas is rapidly losing his calm and the morning is catching up with him. He's low on sleep, overheated and is in desperate need of his husband's warm presence. 

Before he knows it a few tears of his own slips down his face, and as he reaches up to thumb them away he throws a glare around the room, daring anyone to say something. 

Just as the last vestiges of Cas' composure crumble about him, the chaos of someone pushing their way into the private screening room breaks through the noise of Dean's cries. 

"Sir! Sir!"

"You can't go in there!"

Cas looks toward the door just in time to see Sam barreling his way into the room with a tail of airport security trailing behind him. 

"Cassie?"

"Sam."

"Are you this man's husband?" one of the agents who had been in the room with Cas asks.

"Yes, I'm his husband," Sam doesn't sound pleased at all as he drops Dean's car seat behind Cas' chair before he swipes Dean up into his arms. Sam gives the boy a quick kiss on his wet cheeks and sets him down with a pat to his backside. 

Dean takes the moment to escape and toddle towards his car seat, taking his frustrations out by pushing at it angrily and watching it bobble for a few moments before he pushes again. 

"Does someone want to tell me why my husband's Constitutional rights to privacy were being ignored?" 

Cas reaches up and grabs Sam's wrist, and can feel how angry he is at the pulse he finds there. 

"Sammy."

Sam glances down and catches the weariness in Cas' eyes.

"Can you hold off on the intimidating courtroom lawyer for a second? I'd really just like to get checked in."

Cas can see Sam's nose flaring as he breathes.

"Fine," Sam scoops Dean up and holds him to his chest. Dean's heartbreaking cries have lessened, and now he's more comfortable with hid Daddy holding him close. "But I'm not leaving."

The agents are all nodding around the room, and under Sam's watchful eye everyone is extraordinarily careful. They still have to have Cas remove his gear for inspection and get him to stand from the chair for a brief minute as they search the seat - even though the stamps across the back clearly indicate it as airport property. 

While two people look over Cas a third agent pats down and wands Sam and Dean. 

Dean is less than pleased with the experience, but is more than happy to burrow himself into his Daddy's arms. 

Before too long they're being escorted into the comfortable waiting room. One agent is pushing Cas, and a second is carrying Dean's empty car seat while Sam carries their weepy monster. 

They're set up in a quiet section of the waiting area - though the airport itself isn't very cramped, so it's fairly simple to find an empty space for them to sit. 

"Is there anything that you need?" one of the agents ask as Sam sits down, clutching Dean to his chest. 

"No-"

"Could we get a few bottles of water?" Cas jumps in. "I'm just a little parched and…"

"Not a problem, I'll go and grab you a few bottles."

The two agents disperse and Sam shakes his head before giving Cas a look.

"What?"

"Water bottles?"

"What? We're going to feed Dean a bottle before flight, and I don't want to pay five bucks a piece."

Sam huffs as he bounces Dean on his lap.

"Yeah, cause a few bottles of free water are going to save their supervisors from reading a scathing review hand-written on my company letterhead." 

"Now I never said that."

Sam reaches out and grabs Cas' hand. "You okay babe?"

Now that the moment is past Cas feels _drained_.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Can you stop leaving me alone with airport staff?"

Sam huffs a laugh. 

"Yeah Babe, I can do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btdubs. I've been to the Rockford airport before, and it is NOT like this! The airport is fantastic and I will always prefer it over O'Hare. Apologies to the agents there that I abused a little bit!


	33. "Vacation's all I ever wanted!" (Part three)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies :)
> 
> I'm sorry that I've been gone for a few years now :(
> 
> I'm working on getting back to being/feeling like myself, and as I said on my recent update of "You're gonna go far, kid", it isn't about how long it takes for you to get back up after life knocks you down, just that you do. 
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll get to comments, but I'll work on them at some point. 
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the update that I know you've patiently waited for :)

They've been on vacation for less hours than Sam can count on one hand, and already he's ready to go back home. He's still angry at airport security for their mistreatment of Cas and Dean, and even more furious over the fact that Dean had yet to completely calm down from the interruption of the airport security.

 

"Shh, shh, you're okay baby," he rubs his hand up and down Dean's back, who is still a bit weepy.

 

"Do you want to try feeding him a bottle?" Sam looks over to his husband and grabs the bottle he's offering. "Yeah, maybe monster is a little hungry, huh?"

 

He pulls Dean down from his shoulder and cozies him in the crook of his arm. Their baby's eyes are red rimmed and full of tears and Sam feels himself grow angry again at security. Dean's been clinging to his tears in a delayed reaction to the stress that he and Cas had been subject to.

 

Sam thumbs away a few of his tears before offering up the nipple to Dean's mouth.

 

Dean releases a full body sigh before latching on, and sucking the drink down. Their boy looks around, making eye contact with Sam before turning his head a little to look at his Papa.

 

"Hey baby," Cas coos as he smiles back.

 

Dean keeps drinking, but Cas occasionally needs to reach forward and wipe a stray tear or two away from his cheek.

 

"Do you think we can get him to sleep before we board? I think he's a little stressed, Cassie."

 

"Yeah, he's probably a little high strung now," Cas breaks off. "See if you can walk around a little bit and get him settled."

 

"Alright."

 

Sam makes to move out of his chair and shuffle around in the empty space surrounding them to get Dean to nod off, but as soon as his butt clears the chair Dean releases his bite on the bottle and starts shrieking.

 

Since he was already in the process of standing up Sam starts to walk away from their little home base of chairs, and Dean screams more.

 

"Shhh. Shh. It's okay, you're okay."

 

"Nu-NOOOOO!" Dean's high, shrill scream pierces Sam's ears and makes heads turn in his direction as he walks Dean away from the quiet crowds of people. Dean starts squirming in Sam's hold and he's forced to tuck Dean's half finished bottle into the waistband of his pants in order to get two hands on the monster.

 

"You're okay baby, it's alright." Sam's keeping up his calm banter, despite the fact that he doesn't know what's wrong. He thinks it could be that Dean is cranky and unsettled by his interrupted routine.

 

"NOOOOOO!"

 

Sam flinches away from more terrified screams as he positions Dean over his shoulder and absently pats Dean's bottom.

 

He's frowning as he paces by the windows that overlook the front parking lot of the airport and moves to kiss Dean's forehead. It's just as he moves his chin level with Dean's head that the little guy explodes. Apparently Dean's crying fit caused his little one to swallow air on top of the formula he had drank down, seeing as how Dean spit up frothy white regurgitated milk all down the front of Sam's shirt.

 

Sam feels only slightly overwhelmed, as this isn't Dean's first time spitting up on his Daddy's shirt, however, this is the first time Sam has had to deal with baby puke publicly with Dean still screaming and crying. Looking around for the restroom Sam takes off for the sign, all while cradling Dean and trying to keep the spit up from dripping onto the floor.

 

There's a line to get into the bathroom, but when the men waiting realize he's not after a toilet they let Sam through with no complaints. Fortunately there's an empty sink that Sam rushes to and he's able to set Dean on the counter by the sink and hold his hand under the boy's chin just as he spits up again.

 

Sam isn't thrilled to see his boy quite so worked up, but he silently cheers the fact that this time he at least caught it with his hand instead of his shirt. He gets the water running and rinses his hand as he holds Dean steady, all while keeping up his soothing tones. Sam uses his wet hand to rinse Dean's face, but his boy is still visibly upset.

 

He's still crying, screaming "No" and inhaling too much air for this little tummy.

 

"C'mon baby, c'mon," Sam says, rubbing his hand over Dean's belly. "It's okay, my monkey."

 

Sam keeps up the useless banter as he uses one hand to "soothe" Dean and the other to rinse his hand as he wipes the frothy baby puke off his shirt.

 

"Are you going to be Daddy's helper?" he asks.

 

Cas has used that on Dean before when the little boy was upset, usually it worked too, and it never mattered what it was Cas was doing, Dean would calm down for his Papa and start to behave because he wanted to do something that his Papa would praise him for.

 

"NUH-OOOO!"

 

But the trick wasn't working for Sam.

 

"Why not baby?"

 

Sam nearly has his shirt clean, he's just about to the point where he can comfortably let his shirt air dry, he just needs to keep Dean calm a little while longer and he won't look like he has baby puke all over him.

 

"Ah?" Dean says with a big sniff.

 

"Did I take you away from Papa?"

 

"Yeah," Dean's little voice warbles as his little fist reaches up to rub at his eye.

 

Sam pushes his hair back from his face, "you getting tired my babe?"

 

"No."

 

Sam hears a chuckle from next to him, and glances over to see a gentleman about his age washing his hands, Sam doesn't even have to ask to know that the man has kids. The two share a knowing look before Sam turns his attention back to his boy.

 

"Okay, Daddy has you all clean now, you want to go back to Papa and get some cuddles?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Sam scoops Dean up and presses a kiss to his head as he holds his baby boy close to his chest, "me too."

 

When the two make it back to where Cas had been left with their things the older man is slumped in his chair and his eyes are closed. Sam feels guilty about how tired his husband is, and that he's about to wake him up, but Dean's weary little cries are even more saddening.

 

"Babe. Babe? Wake up."

 

Sam rubs gentle circles into Cas' good shoulder to rouse the man.

 

"Hrmpf."

 

"Babe, the baby wants you."

 

"The baby is your responsibility," Cas says trying to curl into his chair.

 

"That was until he started crying for his Papa," Sam replies, dropping Dean onto Cas' relaxed form.

 

Cas sighs, and Sam can hear the tiredness, but what can he do? He has two miserable boys, and they haven't even boarded the plane yet.

 

"How about I go get us some unhealthy airport food? Huh?" Sam tries to get a reaction from his husband, but he's met with firm disinterest.

 

"Honey, we ate at home."

 

"So? We're on vacation. Let's see if Daddy can find the monster a pile of sugar,” he says while bending over to set down Dean’s unfinished bottle.

 

Sam offers up a quick smile and then he walks off.

 

 

***

Cas sighs as he watches Sam walk away and curls his good arm around Dean's bum.

 

"Papa's too tired for this," he says mostly to himself. He feels Dean curl himself close to his chest, and feels little fingers grabbing at his shirt. Cas rolls his head down to look at his little boy.

 

As irritated as he is with the day he's had so far, he can't allow his sour mood to keep him from tending to his little boy.

 

"It's been a rough one, huh sweetheart?"

 

His answer is an explosive sigh that Dean lets out before burrowing into his Papa's chest.

 

"Yeah," Cas tips his head up and closes his eyes, "I feel the same way baby."

 

Cas rubs his hand up and down Dean's back and starts humming "you are my sunshine", he'd been on a Johnny Cash kick lately, and Johnny had by far the best version of the song that Cas had ever heard.

 

A few peaceful minutes pass, where Cas continues to soothe his boy and hum, while looking at the other travelers and keeping an eye out for his husband.

 

He's able to spot Sam quite easily as the other man approaches, hands full of individual bags of chips and sweets.

 

"I come bearing sugar," Sam greets as he sits down.

 

Dean perks up at the sound of food wrappers, and Cas rubs his good hand over his crown.

 

"Well you sure seem happier," Sam comments to their boy as he tears open a package of gummy bears. He stuffs his large fingers in and fishes out a few pieces to pop into his own mouth.

 

"You want some baby?" Sam holds the bag out to Dean, who tentatively accepts.

 

"So you really did buy him a pile of sugar," Cas says as he watches Dean clumsily fetch his own gummy bear.

 

"Cas, it's sugar F-R-E-E," Sam spells out before popping another bear into his mouth.

 

Cas rolls his eyes, "still not a good choice."

 

"Never said it was, but look," Sam nods towards Dean's little cheeks, which are puffed out as he attempts to chew the single red bear he managed to snag. "He's happy."

 

"Should he be eating gummy bears?"

 

"He'll be okay," Sam fishes out a few more bears. "Want one?"

 

"Nah, I'm good."

 

The three of them settle in to wait for boarding while Sam and Dean eat their gummy bears, and Cas has Sam put the chips in their carry-on. They can have a snack on the plane if they need one.

 

Sam's just popping the final gummy bear into his mouth when the announcement for priority boarding on their flight is called. Thanks to Dean, and Cas' injuries, they qualify to be one of the first boarded travelers, so Sam puts their carry-ons onto the handle of the wheelchair before wheeling them to the gate.

 

Once their passes are scanned and their bags are cleared Sam takes Dean and helps lift Cas out of the chair. It’s a little big to be wheeling onto the plane, so Cas would rather avoid the hassle, he can walk.

 

They’re able to get in and settled easy enough, but boarding the plane has a negative effect on Dean, who immediately develops a full-on pout with his bottom lip, and glassy, tears-at-the-ready eyes.

 

“What’s wrong my love,” Cas asks as he pushes back the boy’s hair.

 

Dean sniffs and holds out his hands to be picked up, even though Dean is already on his lap Cas cuddles him closer, pulling him high on his chest for a good, solid hug.

 

Sam, busy putting away their carry-on, frowns at Dean’s sudden clinginess. “Is he okay?”

 

Cas can’t offer up much information on the topic, “just sad suddenly.” He also frowns and, dropping his voice in a whisper, asks “do you think he had a fear of flying, ya’know, before?”

 

Sam purses his lips in thought. “It’s possible. You don’t like planes, huh sweetheart?” Sam asks, rubbing their boy’s back.

 

He’s able to run his hand up and down Dean’s back only a few times before Dean’s sucking in a deep, deep breath and letting out one of the loudest shrieks his two daddies had ever heard. Cas and Sam freeze for a split second as Dean inhales for round two, and in that moment, they scramble to soothe Dean.

 

The plane is boarding and people are filling the seats fast. The people who aren’t passing by with irritated looks are turning around in their seats to give the two parents their best disapproving glares.

 

If Dean doesn’t settle soon, then they’re going to be in for a long flight.


	34. "Vacation's all I ever wanted!" (Part four)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow. I kind of forgot how awesome of a fandom I belonged to. You guys have been all sorts of wonderful about my hiatus and unexpected return. 
> 
> It's a pleasure writing this story for people who are not only so complimentary, but kind hearted too :)
> 
> I'll try posting smaller chapters from now on to make life a little easier on myself, but I'll also apologise. I write on my phone a lot for convenience and it doesn't allow for the best editing. 
> 
> As always, enjoy!

It’s been 45 minutes since they boarded the plane, and it hasn’t moved an inch.

The pilot came over the air about half an hour ago to let the passengers know that the flight was being delayed by about an hour, something about a crowded runway, or a busy runway… Sam’s not entirely sure.

Most of the passengers aren’t sure, really, as Dean did his best to be sure that no one could hear the message over the sound of his shrieking and wailing.

Sam’s tired of having to glare off rude travelers who think that looking at Sam’s little row is going to accomplish anything, and he’s pretty sure Cas’ lips have to be almost numb from his constant pleas for Dean to –

“Shh, shhh. Please baby, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

He’s doing his best to rock Dean in his arms, but it’s difficult while sitting down. And it’s not like Sam can take Dean and walk him in the aisle, because the flight attendants have asked travelers to remain in their seats. They want to avoid herding restless passengers into their seats when their plane is finally given permission to fly.

Sam gets it, really he does, but squirmy babies don’t like to make following rules easy. And Sam’s already exhausted from their early morning. Trying to keep his calm exterior is becoming increasingly difficult.

Especially since Sam’s starting to experience some, troubling symptoms.

His tummy lets out a low rumble just as he reaches up to wipe away a slow rolling bead of sweat. His sweet husband catches the movement and can’t help but express his concern.

“Sam? Everything alright?”

“Yeah baby,” Sam reassures him with a kiss to his temple, “just a little warm in here is all.”

He doesn’t have to convince Cas further, as Dean is demanding enough of his Papa’s attention as it is.

Twenty minutes later and everything is not alright.

There was a brief round of applause earlier when the captain announced that they’d be ready for takeoff in ten short minutes. But Sam was certain his window of opportunity was closing in nine.

His lower abdomen was on absolute fire, the belt that he was wearing felt too constricting on his suddenly bloated stomach, and moving from side to side to relieve the pressure was one of the only things he could do to keep the cramping from getting too bad.

He had to _go_.

And if the plane didn’t get its ass off the ground shortly, then Sam was utterly fucked.

Another bead of sweat rolls across his forehead, and he wipes it off with more flourish than necessary. He’s quickly reached his stress limit, and Dean’s shrill screams aren’t helping.

“For the love of God,” he whispers to himself, “make it stop.”

“Well you aren’t exactly helping!” his husband is quick to snap.

Sam turns to his husband and watches Cas’ continued attempts to calm Dean down. They haven’t done a damned thing so far to quiet the breakdown their little one is having, but Cas is still trying. If nothing it’s at least reassuring their little boy that he isn’t alone.

He hadn’t meant for Cas to hear his quiet comment, but not only had he heard it, he’d taken it as direct parenting criticism from the one person on board who is supposed to be on Cas’ side.

“Baby, I wasn’t – “

“It’s bad enough that these half-wits are looking at us like child abusers, now you’ve gotta go and yell at me too?”

Cas adjusts Dean with a huff.

“If you aren’t going to _help_ with the baby,” Cas all but growls, “then you can at least help me and keep your comments to yourself.”

With that Cas clamps his jaw shut and pets a hand through Dean’s hair.

Sam is a happily married man, one who knows his husband well enough to know when to shut up. So instead of pressing the issue on their confined flight, where they will do nothing but argue and yell, he lets it go.

A few minutes later and the stomach pains are back. The pain is like a knife twisting around in his gut, just below his belly button. He’s clenching his hands on the arm rests to cope with the waves of pain, but he knows that only one thing can really help his problem.

Sam’s eyeing the seat belt sign.

The _second_ it turns off he’s making a break for the bathroom at the front of the plane.

All he needs to concentrate on at the moment is his breathing. Cas has the baby under control, which is Sam’s only responsibility at this point. So as long as he can keep his breathing steady and keep from breathing in too deep, he’ll be okay. 

The plane makes a small rocking motion as the wheels start rolling up to the runway. They’re about to take off, thank _Christ_.

“Sam?”

“Mhm?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” his reply to his husband is breathless. “Jus’ uh. Warm.”

“You look flushed.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t fully concentrate on his husband’s concern, not if he’s going to -

The plane jerks a bit as the plane starts moving faster, and Sam whimpers at the sudden movement. 

His fingers grip more forcefully on his arm rests and he holds his breath as the plane levels out in the air. 

It’s a few agonizing seconds later until the seat belt sign shuts off, and Sam is released and down the aisle before Cas can ask what’s wrong with him. 

*****

Cas watches his husband shoot down the aisle towards the small plane’s single bathroom, shock evident on his face.

The younger man had been perfectly fine just before boarding, but during their long delay before take-off, had taken on a clammy and ill appearance. They’ve gone on plenty of flights together, and he’s never known Sam to get motion sickness, so he’s got no idea what’s causing his husband to act all squirmy all of the sudden. 

But he can’t really give his focus to Sam, because Dean is still crying and whining with all his heart. He’s got to get their son to calm down somehow, problem is, Cas has no clue how he’s going to accomplish that. 

He thumbs away the fresh treats littering their way down Dean's angry, red cheeks. The caramel freckles breaking up the pinkish red with a bit if color. Their baby looks mad, and put upon. He's certainly not happy with this flying business. 

“This is no fun, is it my sweet Cherry pie?”

There's little chance Dean can even _hear_ his Papa over the ssd boy’s cries, but Cas is hoping that by remaining calm, that his son will follow suit. 

Cas glances at the restroom for, wishing Sam had stuck around to help him with their son. Sam sometimes knows exactly what to do in order to get Dean out of a funk. 

“Oh!”

Cas remembers how Sam had fed Dean some snacks just before boarding, and while he didn't really want to ply they baby with food…. An hour of judgemental stares on a crowded airplane had broken his resolve. 

It's ridiculous, really. Cas knows their baby better than this. Dean will do almost _anything_ for food. Which would be a problem later - they'd have to warn him about strangers offering him them at some point - but at the present, it's a parenting Ace in the sleeve. 

Surely, he thinks as he flags down a stewardess, he would have thought about this sooner had Dean not have been crying for so long. Travel leaves him frazzled enough as it is, but the constant crying has him struggling to properly assemble his thoughts. 

“What can I do for you sir?” the poor stewardess tries asking over Dean.

“Um, snacks?” 

The stewardess nods at the quick request and rushes off. Cas really doesn’t care what he gets, he just needs _food_. Whatever he can use to bribe his son into calming down.

She’s back fairly quick, and she’s got a few things in hand, “I have some raisins, apple slices, and chips.” She tosses the treats into Sam’s vacated seat as she rattles them off, and then holds out a small juice box, with the straw already inserted. 

“Here, try this.”

Cas fumbles for the box, but manages to grab it while holding Dean.

“Sometimes little ones need to be encouraged to suck, and it’ll decrease the pressure in their ears,” she knowingly says, motioning to her own ears. “He could be crying because of the discomfort, and juice usually works,” she offers a smile.

“Oh,” Cas looks down and starts making an attempt to aim the straw for Dean’s mouth. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem.”

She walks off before Cas can fish out his wallet and pay for the things she brought, so he assumes the snacks are a peace offering, in the hopes that it will soothe Cas’ howling son. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Cas thumbs away a few more tears, “want some juice?” 

He spies the green apple on the front, “it’s apple baby boy, you like apple juice. Remember?”

Dean flits the back of his fingers over his eyes, dislodging a few of the tears that had been clinging to his lashes. His mouth is still agape, and a whine is still coming from his pouting lips, but he makes eye contact with his Papa for the first time since getting on the plane. 

_Progress. Don’t overplay this, Castiel._

“I bet my Dean is mighty thirsty, hmm? You wanna try some juice?” 

He tries pushing the _just_ -too-big box of juice into the boy’s hands, and Dean’s stubby baby fingers latch on tight. 

In his curiosity over the object in his hands, Dean’s cries dissolve completely. Sam and Cas’ little boy is so focused on his juice box that he doesn’t even react to the handfuls of claps that pass along the plane. Cas, however, does. 

After sparing a moment to silently condemn the assholes on their flight, Cas does his best to foster Dean’s fascination over the juice box. 

Their boy has held his own bottle before, but he doesn’t think that Dean has been given a juice box yet. 

“What’s that, baby boy?” Cas questions, jiggling his legs.

Dean looks up at him with his candy apple eyes, he lifts the box towards his Papa’s face. 

“Is that a juice box?”

_“Eeewce?”_

Yeah, that’s probably a hard word for the little monster. 

“Mmm, it’s _apple_ juice.”

“Mmmmm,” Dean parrots back to him.

He pops his lips open a few times, aiming and missing for the juice straw. Cas lets him try it on his own, letting Dean distract himself. Eventually Dean gets it right, and his lips hold onto the straw. Cas watches him give a few good sucks, swallow a mouthful of juice, and then let out a hefty sigh. 

“It's that better my little cherry pie?” Cas cards his fingers through Dean's golden hair.

“Yuh,” the little boy doesn't seem convinced, and a few tears are still escaping his eyes. 

Dean takes another small sip of juice, and Cass runs a soothing hand over the boys back. He feels some rumbling at Dean's lower half, and assumes he'll have a messy diaper to change shortly. 

Ideally, Dean would have pooped before they boarded the plane, but there's nothing Can can do about it now. If Dean poops Cas will just have to change him in the bathroom.

He kisses his boy’s head when Dean starts another bought of sad crying. 

“This is rough, huh sweetpea?”

Dean's little fingers drop the juice box, and Cas can't grab it before it tumbles off of his legs.

_“Ah, shit.”_

He doesn't get a chance to lament the loss of his boy's juice for very long, as frantic stubby fingers grip themselves into his hair, and Dean's arms worm back around his neck. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Cas says over the start of fresh tears. 

Cas wraps his arm around Dean's back, and uses his good hand to scoop up one of Dean's legs to pull the boy closer. He can feel more gas bubbles rumbling from the little boy, and suspects that an upset stomach might be the reason behind Dean's sour mood more than the plane. 

“Does Papa's monster have to poop?” He says, more to himself than anything. 

He'll have a poopy diaper to change shortly. 

His boy keeps crying, and when Cas cups a hand under his boy's bottom he feels a warm squish. 

“Or did you already poop?”

Cas applies pressure between Dean's legs, and just as he tips forward to eye Dean's bum he feels and hears a loud, wet fart rip. It shoots directly up Dean's back, out the collar of the boy's onesie, and right into Cas’ face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people already guessed what I'm doing! I'm kind of surprised! I thought I was being sneakier than that. But damnit! Lol
> 
> Anyways, if you guys haven't already enjoyed the HILARIOUS reviews associated with sugar free gummy bears, then click through and have a good laugh! You'll probably catch on to what's I'm doing :)
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B000EVOSE4/ref=mp_s_a_1_4_a_it?ie=UTF8&qid=1518890479&sr=8-4&keywords=sugar+free+gummy+bears&dpPl=1&dpID=513DVRpk7FL&ref=plSrch


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